Thursday, 7 PM. Pajamas on, teeth brushed (more or less), and it’s that sacred time of day: bedtime. The moment when little feet finally settle, eyes get heavy… and suddenly, a journalistic fire ignites in the heart of a 5-year-old.
Tonight, I was under a very serious investigation—courtesy of Miss J., my daughter, age 5 years and 8 months, full-time truth-seeker and part-time philosopher.