Give me a hand.

We went out to eat to celebrate Rachel's 9th birthday. We find Noah's lack of short-term memory to be a bit funny at times as he'll often ask us where we're going as we're in the van or where we just were. So this particular Sunday, as Noah was using the bathroom right before bed, he asked me, "Where'd we go again?"
Me: "Paradiso." Noah: "Oh yeah, I had chicken hands."

I laughed so hard. He had chicken fingers. He wanted chicken nuggets but they only had fingers. That led to a discussion of why they're called fingers and Paul described how they are thin and long like fingers. Apparently that whole image of a hand is what stuck in his brain.