Into the Turd Sprinkler

I heard my child make a noise of distress and I called to him.
"What's the matter?"
"My hamster bit me."
I looked at the drop of blood emerging from his fingertip and squeezed it delicately.
"You need to wash it with soap."
"OK," he answered somewhat distraught.
I went in his room after he had finished drying his hands on a bathroom towel. He almost looked depressed so I talked to him about the troubles people encounter taking care of pets.
"Are you alright?"
"I guess."
"Well, I should tell you something."
"What?"
"Well... Now that you've been bitten you are going to change."
"What?"
"That's right. When the moon comes up, bright and full, you're gonna change... First you get all furry and then your front teeth start to protrude and then me and your mommy have to stick you inside a big plastic ball for you to run around in while bouncing off walls & doors until dawn when you change back."
"Like a werewolf?"
"No. Like a hamster-boy. There's a difference," I said gravely, "It is a way to get you to eat vegetables though."
He smiled. I think the hamster was forgiven.
I went back to the living room feeling a little proud of how well my boy can recognize bullshit. I firmly believe it is a survival tool.