Sam and I have seen this commercial on TV several times this week, and have enjoyed a hearty laugh together each time. (Turkey defenestration never gets old.) So he recognized the whole, raw turkey when I took it out to prepare it for Thanksgiving dinner a few days ago. As I dressed it, Sam asked if there was an "animal turkey" inside this turkey. I explained in vague terms that this pasty blob was an "animal turkey" that had died and had its feathers removed. He asked the same question a few more times during dinner prep, and I gave him the same answer. I didn't think he got it.
Later, during Thanksgiving dinner, Sam refused the turkey with the announcement that he didn't want to eat animals. Three-and-a-half seems a little young to go vegetarian, but I told him (through stifled laughter) that I respected his decision. And he'd still have to try his sweet potatoes and corn.
On the other hand, Gracie, with her tray full of graspable delicacies, went almost exclusively for the turkey. We couldn't restock fast enough. And Malcom (poor Malcom) didn't get as much turkey as he would have liked either. He spent his Thanksgiving dinner hour staring at the partially carved carcass on the counter, whimpering quietly.
In short, no one was happy about the meaty chunk situation around here except me and Coach. And that's just how we like it. Gobble gobble.