A conversation had by Mary and Kate today:
"Our dog is named Eleanor Roosevelt, she's a beagle, and she tinkles on our floor. All over the floor, Mom says she's getting old, like an old lady, and so she has accidents, and she poops sometimes, ooh, ick (hysterical laughter). And our dad just yells at her, all the time, Eleanor Roosevelt, stop pooping, but she's old so maybe she doesn't know but he just keeps on yelling and yelling but mostly he likes to sleep, sleep sleep sleep, all the time. Just like Eleanor, Dad and Eleanor like to sleep, all the time, they nap, but we don't like to, but we do sometimes, like today, we are going to nap today because our uncles were here this weekend, we ate ice cream and stayed up late, oh and a cupcake, we had a cupcake too. But not Eleanor, she has to spit up if she eats cupcakes, once she ate a cupcake, no a cake, and she spit up everywhere, it was icky, but we weren't born yet, we were still in mom's belly, and...".
The very young, very single guy cashier at Whole Foods was tolerant, not terribly amused, and probably not too interested in a beagle or a cupcake.