I was sitting with Lilly this evening, as she lay in bed. She was pretty asleep. I thought. I mean, she was snoring and everything.
"Mom? Is boneless chicken real?"
It's one of those questions I hate because I'm no parenting rookie and I know this is a set-up. If I say boneless chicken isn't real, she'll be walking around denying that dinner exists. If I say it is real, she's going to make a fool of herself on the class field trip to the farm.
So it's always the long answer. "All chickens that are alive have bones. Chickens that we eat sometimes have bones, and sometimes the bones are taken out by other people."
"So boneless chicken isn't real?"
Gah. Knock it off.
"Because my friend Jack says a boneless chicken bit him on the finger."
Your friend Jack is full of shit.