Yesterday, Dagny and I visited our millionth preschool within a five mile radius. At this particular school, the children are lucky enough to play in a yard next to two goats.
As we finished the visit and attempted to say good-bye to the preschool director, Dagny asked, "Where goats go?"
Honey, they are sleeping. Again, thank you Mrs. X for your time, today.
Where goats go?
They are sleeping. Could I trouble you to get the paperwork necessary to enroll my daughter in your school?
Where goats to?
They are still sleeping, Dagny. Well, we better be on our way. Thanks again, Mrs. X for your time.
Where goats go?
They are STILL sleeping. We need to go pick up your sister. Let's go to the car.
Where goats go?
Sleeping. Can you get into the car?
Where goats go?
Do you want a snack?
Where goat go?
SLEEPING. Do you want some water?
Where goats go?
What do you want for lunch?
Where goats go?
They are sleeping, my dear. Do you want to listen to the radio or to your CD?
Where goats go?
She asked no less than 20 more times, "Where goats go?" Finally, we arrived at Valerie's school to pick her up.
(Again) Where goats go?
THE GOATS ARE SLEEPING. Now, let's go get Valerie.
(Asking Valerie's teacher) Where goats go?
The teacher replied, "The goats are on the farm!"
Oh.... okay. I hungry!
(Duh... like I should have known that was the response she needed!)
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