For Cinco de Mayo, we bought Bailey a donkey. Isn't that what every parent gets their child for the Mexican celebration?
Well, we gave it to her early and today, her classmates killed it. At least that's Bailey's version of events.
I tried explaining to her that is what happens to a pinata. And she should know this. That kid has this firm belief that a party isn't a party without a pinata.
"But it was my pet donkey."
But she's over it and in all actuality, she enjoyed every minute of its beating, especially the guts which tasted a lot like fruit snacks, nachos, and lollipops.
Her donkey might be dead now, but aren't those the best pets?
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