The following is a conversation I had with my 2-year-old daughter that takes an ongoing battle to a revealing extreme:
M- (with a very serious, soft voice, sticking a finger into my face): See this finger? Look at this finger. That's an owie. (changing gears to a sharply pained whimper instead) I need a Band-Aid...
Me (looks at finger, then rubs off a crumb of the previous night's red Jello cake): Nope, that's just cake. You'll survive.
M-: Oh... yeah! That's just cake... (relieved laugh)
In case you're wondering why all those balloons are falling from the ceiling, it's because I have now officially spent 500 full hours of my life denying bandages to my children for wounds that are questionable --or in this case, edible-- at best.
You may enjoy my previous M- conversations, (5YO son) D- conversations, and (wife) J- conversations.