As a parent, you find yourself uttering things you never imagined possible. For instance, "Nana ate Darth Vader."
Poor Evan. After Papa Frog passed last week, he chose a new frog and snail and promptly named them Darth Vader and Dart. Dart was the snail. Yesterday morning, everything seemed fine in the tank. But last night, well last night was ugly. I looked in to see Dart stuck to the filter and Darth Vader very, very dead with his insides coming out. Not pretty--literally and figuratively.
Poor Evan asked why Darth Vader's insides were outside, and the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "Well, I think Nana ate Darth Vader." And then I fought to not laugh hysterically, because really, that is a pretty funny sentence. Poor Evan was crushed, though. He is trying to decide if Nana needs a new friend or not. He's a bit afraid of her cannibalistic tendencies. I can't say I blame him.