Tuesday, May 26, 2009


It's lunchtime. Charlie's eating slices of sandwich meat. He pauses, thoughtfully, then holds a slice up to show me.

Charlie: "This is chicken."

Me: "Yes."

Charlie: "This comes from a chicken."

Me (preparing for an oh-dear-God-we-eat-animals moment): "Yes."

Charlie, covering his arms with slices of meat at lightening speed: "I'm a chicken! Bwack! Bwack!"

In other news, today he took his sitter, Amy, into the back yard to show her some dump trucks that her nieces had filled with sand. "Look what your punks did to my sandbox!" he said.