My Dad shot a Kudu in Africa once upon a time and has it hanging above his mantle alongside and Impala and a Blest Buck. Last night Trae was playing this game where he threw his (beloved) Nuk up in to the air over and over and over. Wouldn't you know it the old Kudu got sick of it and gobbled it up...? We waited a good hour to see if he would puke it out, but our request was met with bitter refusal. We left with a promise that if he "buuuked" it up, "gamma" would bring it to us. Grandpa also promised to spank him, and Mommy tried to reach in and get it (although she was about 3 feet short of even reaching his mouth) and the Kudu attacked her and she was forced to hop around the room dramatically for impact. The theatrics were amazing...

Although someone said we'd cave, we didn't. Even when we walked out to the van and there was an identical nuk to the one stuck in the, ahem, kudu's throat. He went to sleep without it, albeit with much begging and pleading. He slept through the night peacefully in his crib. This morning he asks for it, and when I remind him the kudu ate it, he says "noooo" and sadly looks at the floor.

He's probably just playing me.
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