Me, at the dinner table: OK, everyone tell me about their day.
My four year-old-daughter, Toots: A real day or an imaginary day?
Me, playing along: An imaginary day.
Toots: OK, so there was this monster, and… (pausing)…Mommy? Can I say the word ‘killed’ just this once? (holding her finger up in the form of a “one”)
Me: No. There are a lot of other words you can use. Try another word.
Toots, sighing: OK. So there was this monster, and he jumped on me and ate me and then squeezed all the blood out of me and cut me up into a million pieces and then made me into a monster and put eyes on the top of my head…
Me, thinking she used every other word but killed to say killed, but also thinking she gets points for ingenuity, then also thinking, she may need to be medicated or at best, de-Scoobyized: All riiight. Um, so tell me about your real day.
Toots, looking genuinely befuddled: But…why?
Remind me to tell you sometime about the “flay me alive” conversation.