"Uh-oh!" - My toddler, looking me dead in the eye while he feeds his dinner to the dog

*on death bed* priest: any regrets my child? *montage of every time i saw a large dog and didn't try to ride it* me: uhhhhh

Hey, baby, you wanna come back to my place, and become a famous murder victim?

If a child's survival depended on my ability to share bacon, I would weep greasy, bacony tears at that child's funeral.