Lily: "The thing about knives, Mommy, is that they cut you."
me: "You speak truth."
Lily: "They can cut any part of you. They can cut your throat and your arms and your legs and your head and your face and your toes."
me: "Yes, but you are not going to use a knife to do that, are you."
Lily: "I think it's possible to cut off your own fingers."
me: "Okay, now I'm going to need you to actually say the words, 'I will not touch knives.'"
Lily: "There would be a lot of blood if that happened. A whole big pool of blood."
me: "Repeat after me, 'I. will. not. touch. knives.'"
Lily: "Okay, okay."
me: "Say it."
Lily: "Geez. No knives. Okay?"
me: "And you won't let your friends touch knives, either, right? Because blood is gross."
Lily: "Mommy. Blood is not gross. It's just part of us. The liquid part."
me: "Blood is totally gross."
Lily: "No. It's just wet. The only thing about blood is that it means pain."
me: "Yes. PAIN. That's the part you should dwell on. Because all this talking about blood and knives is very disturbing. Unless you want to be a doctor when you grow up. And then it's only slightly less disturbing."
Lily: "I would be a very good doctor."
me: "I sort of agree."
Lily: "I think owies are just so interesting."
me: "That's better. Come give me a kiss."
Lily: "Oh, I don't think so. Faces have way too many germs. You can get me sleeping medicine, though."
me: "You want to be drugged to sleep?"
Lily: "Yes, please."
me: "Oh my heck."