I went downstairs this morning to wake Hannah up and discovered that _somebody_ (of the 4-footed variety) had deposited a dead bat at the foot of the stairs. Fortunately, it wasn't mangled or anything. On the other hand, I doubt it flew into our house and then had a peaceful heart attack while lounging on the tile floor.
Anyhoo, I couldn't get John to get his lazy carcass out of bed and come deal with it before Hannah saw it--which was a close thing anyway because she suddenly got a nosebleed and came out of her room before I could go in there to wake her up--so I scooped it onto the dustpan and put the whole thing out on the balcony.
While I was fixing Hannah's snack for school, John came moseying downstairs. "So, did you remove the deceased?"
Me: *mind racing* "Hannah, we're speaking obliquely."
Hannah: "Hello, people! Eleven-year-old kid, here! I haven't read the whole dictionary."
And thus we avoided the topic of the dead bat until Hannah had to leave for school 3 minutes later.