In which we get specific

(On Elizabeth's third birthday)

Me: "When are you going to go to bed tonight?"

Elizabeth: "One Thirty Eight."


Well, I guess if a cow can jump over it, then...

(While driving one evening)

Elizabeth: "The Moon! ... What do moons eat?"

Me: "Um. I don't think the moon eats anything."

Elizabeth: "I think so. I think so... Moons eat."

Me: "What do you think they eat?"

Elizabeth: [Without even a pause] "Fish."