Photo: Alexbip, Flickr Creative Commons
I apparently slept horribly last night. I woke up around five this morning missing a pillow and it wasn't until after I got out of bed more than an hour later that I discovered I had ripped the fitted sheet off my half of the bed. I don't remember any of my nocturnal trauma. I apparently missed the pretty serious thunderstorm that my wife and Little Gandhi had a lengthy discussion about while preparing his eyeball sandwich for breakfast, so I obviously never achieved full consciousness after going to sleep. The only pain or discomfort I remember was my wife scratching a hole into my face just a little to the right of my right eye. It was still stinging a while later in the shower. She claims she misjudged how far away I was when she rolled over, but I sleep on the very edge of the bed. You draw your own conclusions.
Of course none of this really matters. Since I don't remember whatever distress I was feeling in the night, it doesn't really exist. You can't be troubled by the sorrow you don't know. I remember almost having my eye gouged out, though.
Speaking of sorrows, Little Gandhi is really grappling with the concept of extinction, and also with the concepts of fact and fiction. I don't know how many times I've had to answer questions about specific dinosaurs and whether or not they're extinct. Yes, they died a long time ago, I'll answer. But what about the ones on Dinosaur Train, he'll reply. Those are cartoons, dude. Then, he'll pause and mull it over, but I know the question is coming again. I don't know if he really understands that cartoons aren't the real thing yet, but he knows exactly what a compsognathus is and the fundamental differences between reptiles, amphibians, birds, and mammals.