We had an early morning after a late night, which meant that we had an interesting day—Miriam napped for over two hours and Rachel put herself down for a nap after declaring that she "can't handle this anymore!"
But breakfast was hilarious.
Rachel had made oatmeal for herself but Miriam wanted to have cereal, specifically she wanted "Rasin Bran—it's Grandpa's cereal!" Rachel then decided she wanted cereal instead of oatmeal and asked if she could change her mind but I told her that she couldn't because she had already fixed herself oatmeal.
"Mom! If you don't let me have cereal right now then I'm not going to be your child!" she threatened.
I just shrugged and told her she still had to finish her oatmeal. I'm pretty sure they don't let four-year-olds sue for emancipation because their mother asks them to eat their oatmeal. Just sayin'...
Later after she had finished her oatmeal and was enjoying a bowl of cereal she turned to me and asked, "Does meat come from plants?"
I thought she said wheat. We were eating cereal after all.
"No. Not wheat. Meat. Where does it come from? Does it come from plants?"
"No. Meat comes from animals," I told her.
"Like dinosaurs?" Rachel asked.
"No. Not like dinosaurs," I said.
"Like chicken comes from...chicken. And hamburger comes from cows."
"Well, do we ever eat dinosaurs?" she asked.
"No."
"Well, Sharptooth eats other dinosaurs," Rachel pointed out.
"He used to," I conceded, "But now he doesn't because he doesn't exist anymore—he's extinct."
At this point Miriam decided to join the conversation.
"Nuh-uh!" she countered. "Sharptooth 'zists! Sharptooth bit me on my finger! Last night!"
She then held up her perfectly intact index finger as if it was somehow evidence of her point.
Grandma came upstairs about ten minutes later and had already read the above conversation (which I posted to facebook so I wouldn't forget it) because she asked to see the finger Sharptooth bit.
"You know," Rachel casually mentioned, "A sharptooth can't even, like, bite your finger. He can only eat your whole body."
I saw Miriam's whole body tense.
"Not chomp mine head off!" she gasped.
We assured her that sharptooths are completely extinct (though there was that one episode of Pysch where a t-rex was ruled as cause of death, more or less) and that she had nothing to worry about.
Then for the next several minutes the girls practiced growling at each other.
It was an interesting breakfast.
But breakfast was hilarious.
Rachel had made oatmeal for herself but Miriam wanted to have cereal, specifically she wanted "Rasin Bran—it's Grandpa's cereal!" Rachel then decided she wanted cereal instead of oatmeal and asked if she could change her mind but I told her that she couldn't because she had already fixed herself oatmeal.
"Mom! If you don't let me have cereal right now then I'm not going to be your child!" she threatened.
I just shrugged and told her she still had to finish her oatmeal. I'm pretty sure they don't let four-year-olds sue for emancipation because their mother asks them to eat their oatmeal. Just sayin'...
Later after she had finished her oatmeal and was enjoying a bowl of cereal she turned to me and asked, "Does meat come from plants?"
I thought she said wheat. We were eating cereal after all.
"No. Not wheat. Meat. Where does it come from? Does it come from plants?"
"No. Meat comes from animals," I told her.
"Like dinosaurs?" Rachel asked.
"No. Not like dinosaurs," I said.
"Like chicken comes from...chicken. And hamburger comes from cows."
"Well, do we ever eat dinosaurs?" she asked.
"No."
"Well, Sharptooth eats other dinosaurs," Rachel pointed out.
"He used to," I conceded, "But now he doesn't because he doesn't exist anymore—he's extinct."
At this point Miriam decided to join the conversation.
"Nuh-uh!" she countered. "Sharptooth 'zists! Sharptooth bit me on my finger! Last night!"
She then held up her perfectly intact index finger as if it was somehow evidence of her point.
Grandma came upstairs about ten minutes later and had already read the above conversation (which I posted to facebook so I wouldn't forget it) because she asked to see the finger Sharptooth bit.
"You know," Rachel casually mentioned, "A sharptooth can't even, like, bite your finger. He can only eat your whole body."
I saw Miriam's whole body tense.
"Not chomp mine head off!" she gasped.
We assured her that sharptooths are completely extinct (though there was that one episode of Pysch where a t-rex was ruled as cause of death, more or less) and that she had nothing to worry about.
Then for the next several minutes the girls practiced growling at each other.
It was an interesting breakfast.
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