Fiona stepped on one of her own toys strewn about the living room.
Fiona: Ow ochie owie ow! (Proceeds to fake limp over to me to demand comfort)
Me: (Not impressed by her acting 'cause I know all about theatre and junk) You're fine.
Fiona: No look right there (points at perfectly normal looking toe)
Me: Oh no! This is bad. I'm sorry but we're going to have to amputate. Dave get a knife.
Fiona: No don't cut it!
Me: Oh no? Is it better?
Fiona: Yep.
Mother of the year right here baby.
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