Beaver Toys

I bought Coraline a beaver to chew on.

What?

I didn't do it on purpose. Until I gave it to her, at Nana and Papa's house. With my thirteen-year-old (almost 14!) third cousin also present.  So, yeah, um ...

"Cora! Do you want this nice new beaver?"

"Cora! Where's your beaver?"

"Bite that beaver! Chew your beaver!"

"She's got her beaver down on the rug."

"Oh now she's licking her beaver."

"Give it to me! Give me your beaver!"

"I'm gonna get it! I'm gonna get your beaver!"

"Why is your beaver so wet? Is this spit? Is your beaver covered in spit?"

"This beaver has dog spit all over it."

"She sure loves her beaver."

A few weeks later, I found the beaver in Magpie's back yard.

"Is this Cora's beaver?" I asked, picking up a burlap-looking thing with a beaver tail sticking out of it.

"Yes," replied Magpie. "She turned it inside out."

"She turned her beaver inside out?"

Childish laughter ensued as I tossed it down.  Magpie picked it up next. 

"I don't believe it. Her beaver smells like fish."

"Her beaver smells like fish?"

"Her beaver smells like fish."

You can't make this stuff up.