The Muff Flew Away

Last week, there was a giant brown moth in the living room. The biggest moth I've ever seen. Not smushable. It landed on the carpet, I got a big glass and slid a thin piece of paper underneath. Then T Junior and I went out the front door and set it free. A few days later, I forgot about the moth. T Junior (now 27 months old) did not forget, and he recapped that exciting day's events for me. Except I had no idea what he was talking about:

T Junior (totally out of the blue): The muff flew away.

Me: The what?

T Junior: The muff.

Me: What honey?

T Junior: The muff flew away.

Me: I don't know what you're saying. The what flew away?

T Junior: The MUUUFFFF!

Me: Yeah, okay. (Still not sure what he's saying -- sounds like "muff." What the hell's a muff?)

T Junior: The muff on the floor.

Me: Mhmmm. (Sure, kid. Whatever.)

T Junior: The muff in the cup. The muff go outside.

Me: Ooooohhhhh. The moth.

T Junior: The muff.

Me: Moth.

T Junior: Muff.

Me: Got it. The muff.

T Junior: The muff flew away.

The end.