A Parachute Will Prevent A Co-op Bag From Starting The Zombie Apocalypse. Apparently.

The 5 Year Old is buffeted by a gust of wind as she rounds a corner.

"I'm glad I haven't got a Co-op bag!" she says.

"Why's that?" I ask, it striking me as a bit of a non sequitur.

"Because," she replies in a tone implying that the answer is obvious and I am a total moron, "I'd get my stomach TORN open!"

The non sequiturs are coming so thick and fast now that I begin to suspect I might be momentarily blacking out and missing bits of the conversation.

"How would a carrier bag tear your stomach open?" I enquire.

"Not a carrier bag," she tuts, "a Co-op bag!"

Not entirely clear on the distinction here, but let's focus on the important stuff.

"OK, how would a Co-op bag tear your stomach open?"

"Because it's windy," she explains. I wait. That's it.

"So?" I prompt.

"The Co-op bag might get filled with wind and blow up like a balloon and make me FLY away! Whoosh!"

"Why would that get your stomach TORN open?"

She turns away as she answers, but it sounds like she says "because of the spiky cow."

"Do cows have spikes?" I ask.

"No," she responds helpfully.

"So how is one going to tear your stomach?"

"It isn't!"

"You just said it was!"

"No I didn't!" She is quite offended.

"Then why would blowing away with your Co-op bag get your stomach TORN open??"

"Because of the spiky towers!" Ah, tower, not cow. "I'd fly away, get stuck on a spike on a spiky tower, and my stomach would be TORN open, RIIIIIP!" She mimes it happening.

"Dear me, that sounds bad."

"And the zombie would get out!"

"The zombie?" I'm almost certain I'm blacking out now.

"He'd climb out through the rip in my stomach."

"Really?" I try to get some context. "5 Year Old, what exactly is a zombie?"

"It's when your bones get out of your body and run around on their own." There is a mime to go with this too that implies that they do so in a crazy fashion with tongue lolling out. Which distracts me from asking why her bones are apparently male! "I'll land on a spike, my tummy will tear, and my bones will get out!"

"Well, there aren't really a lot of spiky towers around here. And you don't have a Co-op bag!"

She has an even better solution.

"Maybe I should wear a parachute. That'll stop me falling, then I won't land on a spike."

I think about pointing out that parachutes don't really work like that. But it's a bit late in the conversation to start introducing reality...