She likes to take books to bed to “read.” Well, tonight she fell asleep while “reading” her book, “Hand, Hand, Fingers, ZZZzzzzzzzzzz”
In the car today, she asks, “Why are we real?”
I suggested that Descartes would say that we’re real because we think.
“What would day-cart say?”
“I think, because I am,” I replied.
“Why do we, why do we, why do we, why do we fink?” she asked.
“Because we have a brain. Inside our head,” I said.
“Why do we have a brain inside our head?”
Hrm. I liked her existential question better.
A bit later she informs me she doesn’t have a brain in her head, because she’s dressed as Eeyore.