What did you call that fly?!

We ate outside tonight. There are bugs outside. Normally, bugs are a source of fascination for hours, to the point that we must stop everything to notice each moth, etc. Tonight, a fork clanged, there was pointing, and I heard, "I think a fly might have landed on that." "Probably. Flies are outside. Keep eating." ~me "But flies are cargo planes for really bad microbes." She had me there. After wondering if this was a wierd feverish dream, I recovered enough to insist she finish her dinner. I need a larger vocabulary to dispute my daughter's rationalizations not to eat.