This evening Lindsey and I were driving to Target to get a birthday present for an upcoming birthday party (not her own). On the way we saw a man walking a golden retriever with three legs. One of the front legs was missing and the dog hopped along beside his owner, happy as could be.
Lindsey wondered and wondered about this for some time, and then I made the mistake of telling her that once her Grandpa Horsman had a dog with three legs.
L: Why'd he have three legs?
Me, outside voice: Well, he had an accident with a car and hurt his leg so badly the veterinarian had to cut it off.
Me, inside voice: Why did I just tell her that?! What a horrible visual to give a child! I can't believe I just said that!
L: What did he cut it off with?
Me, outside voice: Uh...uhh...
Me, inside voice: Think faster!! You do NOT want your child waking up at night screaming about a saw.
L: I know, maybe he used doggy scissors.
Me: That's a good idea, maybe he did.
L: Was the doggy asleep so he didn't feel it?
Me: Yes, yes, honey, that's exactly right.
L: And was the doggy happy?
Me: Yes, he was a very happy dog.
L: Why doesn't Grandpa Horsman have him anymore?
Me: Uhhh...Look! We're at Target!