Our daughter, Olivia, is two. She is in a phase where she likes to state the obvious: The sun's hot, dad. Your shoes will catch on fire when you walk in the hot lava. You have ow-ee whips (chapped lips).
Today, I took the kids to Wheeler Farm. I told them the next big holiday is Thanksgiving, which is bad news for turkeys. On that note, Olivia ran to the turkey cage, "I want to eat that turkey! Do you want to eat that turkey, Ethan? I want to eat a mommy and a daddy turkey!"
Ethan said, "I want to go home and eat a turkey sandwich."
I am proud of my little girl, for being in a state of weening that I will call "feral readiness." If we were somehow to be separated, she would make it on her own. She's ready for that shove from the nest. Everything from this point on is a formality.
As a side note, they were also setting up Christmas decorations at the farm today, so maybe my fears have been confirmed and I'm the one who is decidedly crazy.