Eyelids heavy, Chooch slurs, “I hate squid.”
At a loss for anything profound to say (the ungodly hour of 4:43am will do that to a person), I say, “Oh. Well, I’ll be sure not to get you one for your birthday.”
On the brink of falling back asleep, he goes, “Ok.”
After a few seconds to consider this, he adds, “Well, will you get me a whale instead, since I hate squid?”
He never heard my answer over his snores. And now I’m wide awake.