Wednesday, March 5, 2008

The Circle of Life

Last night at dinner, Mr. G and I eat rotisserie chicken while Mr. T and Mr. D sleep in drug-abetted slumber and Mr. B watches TV:

Mr. G: (brandishing chicken leg) Did Daddy shoot this chicken?

Me: Noooooo.

Mr. G: Who shot the chicken?

Me: I don't know. It wasn't Daddy.

Mr. G: I bet the lion killed it.

Me: Maybe.

Mr. G: The good lion killed it or the bad lion?

Me: The good lion.

Mr. G: Yeah. The good lion killed this chicken. I like chicken.


Mr. G: Where's the chicken's head?

Me: Sorry?

Mr. G: Where's the chicken's head? You said this was his leg. Where's his head?

Me: Oh, um, we don't have the head.

Mr. G: Because the lion ate it. The good lion.


  1. Well, at least he's not crying over the dead chicken and threatening to become a vegetarian.

  2. From now on I'm going to call the butcher "Simba."

  3. Boys and head eating. What's up with that?

  4. This is why I never get chicken parts with bones. Boneless breasts only. I had to pluck too many of the little beasts growing up. ;-)

  5. Oh yeah-my boys are total meat eaters. We had some friends who served "mutton chops" and the caveman piped up and said, "Mutton means Lamb. These are lamb chops, yum!!!" He got an extra serving since for some inexplicable reason the couple's little girl was crying too hard to eat.


Spill it, reader.