When Tornado E 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 zoo, and she figured we could leave Tornado E with her while we took the infant Tornado S out to dinner with us. (Because she knew I wouldn’t part with Tornado S 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 Tornado E into the petting zoo to get Tornado E acquainted with the animals and all the kids.
The Husband: Look, Tornado E, a chicken!
Tornado E 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.