The mind of an almost-four-year-old

It takes about seven minutes to go from Violet's preschool to our house. This stream of consciousness took about one-seventh of that.

“Look at that sign, Mama. It's a cat. Wearing a hat. That’s so silly. Isn't that silly, Mama?”

“Who’s in that taxi? Where are they going? Do they want to come to our house? I think they're going the wrong way.”

“Remember when Paco made that rat dead and we found it in the backyard? What do rats eat? Why aren’t they purple? Or pink. Pink would be OK too.”

“Why don’t snakes have legs? They’re really slithery but if they had legs they could walk. Geckos and chameleons have legs.”

“Beckett’s a boy and I’m a girl and you’re a girl and Daddy’s a boy. That's two boys and two girls.”

“When I was up in heaven with Jesus before you had me in your tummy, what was I doing up there? Do angels like playing dress up?”

“Why can’t I see the baby inside Alexa's mommy’s tummy? I think the baby would be happy if it had a window.”

“I’m sleepy, Mama.”