I will not deep fry the dog, Mother.

I don't think I'm going out on a limb when I say I pamper Walter. He has his own backyard wading pool, all-terrain stroller, hand-woven wicker sleeping stand and in-home "pedicure station." Still, my mother isn't sure if I am a fit mother.

Today I told her that I thought Walter would like to dress up as his hero for Halloween. His hero happens to be the almighty Chicken Finger. She was immediately concerned. This is how the conversation went:

Me: I'm going to make Walter a chicken finger costume for Halloween.

My Mother: Well, I don't know. Be careful. Don't deep fry him or anything.

Me: (Pause) Do you actually think I would deep fry the dog?

My Mother: (sighs) Well I don't know. Do you remember that time you used the living room furniture in your school play?

Me: Yes. I remember. I was the set decorator and you said I could use some of the furniture.

My Mother: I was sitting in the audience staring at my entire living room set including your grandmother's rocking chair and those...those children were crawling all over everything.

Me: Yes. We've been over this. Does my seventh-grade "furniture heist" somehow indicate I would deep fry my dog?

My Mother: I'm just saying don't get carried away. Don't deep fry his costume either. I can just see you trying to get the perfect chicken finger color. Just put a hat on him.

Me: Mother, I can assure you I will not deep-fry my dog in order to achieve the perfect "chicken finger color," but thanks for assuming I wouldn't know that.

My Mother: When are you coming over?

Me: um, I'll let you know.

(Does anyone else's mother do this? ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!)