Fine Young Cannibal

Yesterday when Kate was allegedly napping, I noticed her sitting in the hallway near her room intently hunched over a project. When I got closer I saw that what she was doing was removing the small plastic beads–the stuffing as it were–from her cherished, adored, irreplaceable, no-substitutes-accepted, God-help-us-if-we-lose-him dog, Dottie.

When she saw me she looked up to explain, “I’m taking these parts from Dottie and going to cook with them.” As if that were the most normal thing in the world.

Alas, Kate’s fervor for small seeds and pellet-like objects seems to have trumped even her maniacal love for Dottie.

Dismayed by her desire to eat her young, I managed to scoop up the small pile of Dottie innards from the floor and sprinkle them back into her worn out paw. All the while muttering some maternal drivel which managed to convince Kate that there were other more appropriate and ultimately less-beloved ingredients she could use in her kitchen.

Needless to say, I’m keeping an especially close eye on Paige now when she and Kate are playing together.