Here, near as I can recall it, is a transcription of the dialogue between my four year old nephew and I from last Sunday. We were at the mall, it was lunch time, and he had just finished telling me he wanted tzatziki and pita.
"Okay, that sounds good. You'll need some protein to go with it though. How about some chicken?" [I don't even bother venturing into vegetables with him...let's just start with the chicken I figure.]
"Uhm, I like regular protein."
"Regular protein? [huh?] You have to pick something, like chicken... or some other meat or fish, beans, tofu. You know, some sort of protein."
"But my mom just gets me regular protein. That's the kind I like." [Now I'm pretty confused. His mom is not a health-food type person, but all I can picture is some sort of protein powder, maybe mixed into some milk.]
"Xander, really, if we go to the Greek place, you can get your tzatziki and pita and a skewer of grilled chicken."
"How come the Greek place? That's not where my mom gets it from. We go to the other place. For protein. You know: fries, and gravy and cheese. There's no chicken on it."
I think les Quebecois will forgive a small child (and his aunt, who really should have clued in earlier) for the mistake. Protein, Poutine...close enough. We settled on a chicken skewer.