Last Sunday we were on our way home from visiting relatives, and Dan and I were talking about something or other when Little H pipes up from the back seat:

Little H:  I wish I could go trick-or-treating by myself.
Me:  Maybe when you're older, but right now you always need a grown-up with you.
Dan:  Plus, you wouldn't know the way back to Papa's and Grandma's.  (Because we'll be up at my parents' this year.)
Little H:  I don't know the way?
Me:  No, you don't know the way.
Little H:  Only the prophet knows the way?
Me (Long pause until I realize she's been learning Follow the Prophet in nursery, and then I have to sing it in my head until I get to the lyrics, "He knows the waaaayyy."):  Right, only the prophet knows the way.
Little H:  Oh.  Could the prophet take me trick-or-treating?
Me:  I'm not sure he can, honey.  He's really busy.
Little H (hopefully):  But he could dress up like an alligator...
Me:  I'm pretty sure he wouldn't dress up like an alligator.
Little H:  Why, because he would have to crawl on the ground?
Me:  Exactly.

There's really no point in me trying to explain any further.  Sometimes the explanations she comes up with on her own are way better than anything I could do.  Can you imagine poor President Monson crawling around in an alligator costume?  Honestly, child.