What a Three-Year-Old and a Vulcan Have in Common

Yesterday morning, Zoe decided to be a puppy.  Naturally, this meant eating her breakfast like a puppy.  Which meant sticking her face in the food.

Call me Miss Manners, but this is not the kind of behavior I support at the breakfast table.  So we had the following conversation:

Me: Eat with your hands please, Puppy.

Zoe: I don’t have hands.  (Holds up her hands.) I have paws.

Me: Okay, then.  Eat with your paws, please, Puppy.

Zoe: But I can’t.  I’m a puppy!

Perfect logic.  How can a mother argue with that?

Dressed up as one of her favorite puppies, Blue.

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