When Evan was just shy of two, my bff insisted we bring him to her vacation “Bible” school. (It’s in quotes because that’s not what they call it although it’s what it was.) She had booked a petting zoon, and she figured we could leave Evan with her while we took the infant Sean out to dinner with us. (Because she knew I wouldn’t part with Sean at that age. Why fight a lost battle?)
We made the hour-in-traffic trek to her church, where the festivities were in full swing. The Husband decided to take Evan into the petting zoo to get Evan acquainted with the animals and all the kids.
The Husband: Look, Evan, a chicken!
Evan bent down to eye-level with the chicken to examine it. Then he blew on it.
It turns out we never explained that chicken nuggets, chicken strips, chicken legs all came from an animal called a chicken. And that the cooked chicken is hot to touch, not live ones.