Children are playing in the basement, making noises I couldn't identify. Investigation ensues.
"What's up, guys?"
Jillian: "Hi, daddy, we're getting ready for our magic show."
"Jason, what is that in your hand?"
"No, your hand. What is in your HAND?"
"Jason, come here." I inspect his hand. I'll be darned, he has little slices of ham in his hand. "You are playing with ham? What on earth made you think, 'Hey, let's go get some ham and play with that'?"
Jillian attempts a rescue. "Daddy, we had to have something that rhymed with 'Alacazam' and all we could think of was ham. That way we could say "Abracadabra, Alacazam, here is Jason eating ham!'"
And now here it comes...
"HAM... IS NOT... A TOY!"
I had been doing pretty well up to that point, considering the content of the conversation. But at this point, I could no longer hold in the laughter I was stifling. Which made it really difficult to be (or pretend to be) angry. Still, there was some cleanup to be done, and we retraced our steps from the basement to the fridge, picking up little flakes of ham as we went along.
I'd like to think we won't have to cover this subject again, but who knows.