That Isn’t Gouda

(There is a lump of something on the kitchen table, wrapped in a newspaper. My sister is nearby, playing with her three-year-old daughter.)

Me: “What is that?”

Sister: “Oh, [Daughter] just pooped. Don’t mind it.”

Me: “Uh… so you decided to wrap it up and put in on the table?”

Sister: “What? No, no. That’s the cheese I bought from the fair. I thought you were asking about the smell.”