Dialog with my Daughter

In my seriously pregnant state I am curled up on the couch resting. My daughter bounces around on the blue carpet in our living room.

"I'm chasing sharks, Mama!"

"Oooh. Watch out. They probably have big teeth."

"Now a giant is coming to scare away all the sharks."

"Mmmnn."

"Now the giant is eating the sharks. He's very hungry."

"Mmmnn."

"Now the giant is starting a fire in the house! You're the house, Mama! You're on fire!"

"Oh dear. You'd better call the fire department."

"I am the fire department."

"Oh. Well are you going to put out the fire?"

"Here's my bucket! You're getting all wet, Mama! I'm squirting you with my hose!"

"Goodness. It is getting a bit soggy in here. Have you gotten the fire out yet, Firefighter Sarah?

"No."

A long period of silence ensues, in which my daughter peers over at me very seriously. She then climbs up on the couch, sits down on my curled up legs and states:

"I guess I'll just roast hotdogs, then."

True flexibility, at it's finest.