one of the (few) stories of my childhood tells of the time i knocked on a neighbor's door. when they invited me in and offered some cookies, i staunchly declined. instead, i demanded meat.
pooka doesn't have a problem eating meat. she has loved chicken from an early age, and enjoys pork and steak, although she doesn't care for ground beef. but i think she may be getting a little carried away in her craving for protein.
tonight, she wanted a carrot instead of the pasta sauce i had prepared. i insisted she cut it herself.
what? if you've seen her work in the kitchen, you wouldn't be appalled at my 'parenting'.
even so, i thought my trust in her skills would come back to haunt me, when i heard her run to the bathroom. following, i saw droplets of blood. she was silent until i looked at the wound.
it looked for all the world like a slice from a sharp knife; however, she claimed that she bit herself.
no matter how much i assured that she wouldn't be in trouble if she had cut herself with the knife, she maintained that her teeth were the weapons.
honestly, i don't know what to think right now. there was no blood on the knife, nor any other evidence to prove that she's lying. but the cut is so straight, and her teeth are not sharp to the touch (yes, we tested them).