Here is a transcript between me and my 6-year-old daughter. It was recorded by secret devices I have planted around the house. (Actually, it was recorded by my brain.)
Simone: Mom, I really want a toy hearse to play with. I'll have a special box with it and I'll play with it and all my animals and I'll move it around and stuff.
(slight pause while I process that my daughter wants a toy hearse.)
Me: Okay. I guess. Sure! Why not. We could paint a Barbie car black and put little ribbons on it and you can have funerals and stuff.
Me: You know. For your dead animals. The other animals can mourn them and you can put them in the hearse and move it around. We could even build you a burial site out of felt and playdough or something.
Simone: Mom! What are you TALKING about? I want a HEARSE not a HEARSE.
(Pause. Pause. Pause.)
Me: Oh! You want a HORSE. A toy HORSE.
Simone: That’s what I said. A hearse.
Me: Okay. Then just forget everything I just said.