Here's the scene:
Chicken is strapped into his car seat, eating Annie's Cheddar Bunnies from the convenient single serving pouch. I am driving, listening to my audiobook, relieved that I can ignore my children for a little while.
A high-pitched voice pipes up from the backseat. I check my mirror, and I see Chicken holding a single bunny between his thumb and forefinger. He appears to be scolding it.
Chicken: No! No! No!
He stuffs the bunny into his snarling mouth with a monster-sounding CHOMP. He pulls another bunny out of the bag and squeaks again.
Chicken: No! No! Please! Don't eat my hands!
CHOMP. Chicken bites the top half off of the bunny's body.
Me: What's going on back there, baby?
Chicken: I just ate his face.
Me: Wow. So... that was the bunny? Saying no?
Me: So... you were doing the bunny's voice? As it begged? For its life?
Chicken: Yeah. And then I ate his face.
Me: Well... huh. Um. Maybe the bunny doesn't have to be scared. Maybe he's just going into your tummy where his friends are having a bunny party.
Chicken: A party?
Chicken: In my tummy?
Me: Yeah! Doesn't that sound nice?
He pulls another bunny out of the bag, cuddles it against his cheek, and croons.
Chicken: Don't worry, honey. Don't worry, bunny. You're just going to the party now.
CHOMP. He chuckles softly.
Chicken: Silly bunny.