The following is based on a truish conversation and ongoing inside joke that I have with our 3-year-old daughter:
“Hey, Gracie girl, what’s under there?”
“Under where?”
“Under there?”
“Under wheerree?
“Under theerree.”
“Under there or under here? Under where?”
“Right there. Under there.”
“Oh… underwear!”
“Over there, under there.”
“Underwear is under there.”
“Wait, under where is there? Where is where? Here? Is where here or there?”
“No, here is underwear. Under there.”
“Under where?”
“Under there!”
“Under where?”
“Underwear!”
“Under where, under there! Ohhh… I see. Underwear is over there, under there.”
“What did you say?”
“I don’t know…”
The moral of the story: there are no monsters under your bed, just certain timeless mysteries about when hidden, delicate garments were last laundered.
finanigans 