Just a Little Worried

I’m just a little worried about The Child.  She has just posed the question, “What would happen if your boobs were alive and had teeth, and brushed their teeth themselves?”  I honestly didn’t know what to say to that other than, “That would be creepy and weird.”  She’s also just a little bit obsessed with things dying, and killing slugs and flies.  I’m not sure how worried I should be.  I vaguely remember cutting worms in half and things, but I don’t think I was ever so obsessed with boobs.  Or death for that matter.  Sure I liked gore and things, but still.  Hmm.  She’s a strange individual.  And I’m wondering if I should perhaps read We Need to Talk About Kevin.  There are times I wish I had a nice placid sort of child.  One who doesn’t excitedly tell me every time she kills a slug.  I don’t want to know about killing slugs.  I’d rather not know.  And as for the boobs thing, I have tried to ignore it.  But now it’s getting ridiculous.  When she starts telling my family that I’ve got big fat boobs, it’s gone too far.  But none of us could keep a straight face.  She really needs to learn the difference between fat, thin, and average.  She could offend many people with her gross misuse of the words “big” and “fat”.  Oh dear.