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.