My poor little 3-year old son is recovering from a double ear infection, with a side order of fever.  So the other night, I decided to sleep on a mattress on the floor next to his bed, just in case he needed anything.

After what seemed like just a couple minutes after I dozed off, I felt a little hand poking me in the head.

“Dad.  Dad. DAAAAAAAD!”

I looked up, and his head was peeking over the corner of the bed.  “What, buddy?”

“Dad.  Dad. Babies have to take little bites of food because they don’t have any teeth.”

“Okay, buddy – let’s try to get some sleep – you need to rest because you’re sick.”  He laid his head back down, and I started to doze off again.  Then I felt the poking again.

“Dad.  Dad. DAAAAAAAD!”

“What is it this time, buddy?  Are you thirsty?”

“Dad.  When it’s light outside, grass is light green.  But when it’s night, grass is dark green.”

I realized this was going to go on for a while – and bear a striking resemblance to some of the hazy, smoke-induced discussions I had with college roommates.  So I got up and got him some water, hoping that might make him sleep.  Then I went back to bed, secure in the knowledge that babies take small bites because they have no teeth.

He’s fine now, thanks for asking.