(My cousin has moved to property in a rural area. Not long after she moves, my grandmother stays with her for a few days. When she gets back she is gushing about the animals my cousin now has.)
Grandmother: “They have horses for each of them; even the little ones are learning to ride. Oh, and they have the cutest little calves. The kids have named them Bill and Ben.”
Dad: “With names like Bill and Ben, they aren’t going to get much in the way of milk out of them.”
Grandmother: “Don’t be silly. They got them for the kids to play with.”
(It’s quite a while before she visits my cousin again. When they get back my Aunt gleefully tells us the story.)
Aunt: “We arrived just before dinnertime and [Cousin] had cooked a beautiful meal for us. Mom was raving about how lovely and tender the meat was, then made the mistake of asking what it was. [Cousin] looked at her plate and said ‘I don’t know. It could be Bill or it could be Ben. I can’t tell the difference any more.’ You should have heard Mom scream and she refused to eat any meat from then on.”
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