The kindergarten classes went to the Bronx zoo for a field trip. One of my kids returned with a plastic toy that he found on the ground, a tiny battered chipmunk. He proudly held it out for me to inspect.
“Wow,” I said. “This animal is called a chipmunk.”
“I know,” he said excitedly.
“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.
“Take it home!” he said.
“Where will he live?” I asked.
“With me!” he exclaimed.
“Who is going to take care of him?” I asked.
“I am!” he said.
“What is he going to eat?” I asked.
“JUNK FOOD!” he cried.
Ah, spoken like a true five-year-old.
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