Where toes grow . . .

I'm not a regular visitor to our hometown fleet supply store, mostly because I'm not always in need of the more industrial-natured goods the place carries. But today I was. On the list: chicken feed, numerous light bulbs, and a variety of batteries. As it seemed to make reasonable sense to limit my stops, Fleet Farm was my "one stop shop" for the afternoon.
With Caleb and Ella bundled and buckled in the back seat, I reviewed my list and our destination with my son.

Me: " . . . so we can get all the things we need at Fleet Farm . . ."
Caleb: "Fleet Farm?"
Me: "Yep, Fleet Farm."
Caleb: *Long pause* "Fleet Farm?"
Me: "Adjusting rear-view mirror to look at him* "Yes. Fleet Farm."
Caleb: *In a small uncertain voice* "Are we going to Toes Farm too?"
Me: *Dies laughing.*