Explanations Not Necessary

Earlier this evening, Owen brandished the shaft of his bubble wand and began beating his hobby horse. Naturally alarmed, I asked, "Owen! What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to kill the horse!" he said matter-of-factly without slackening the ferocity of his attack.

Oh. Okay.

Later, getting a post-bedtime snack of banana, Owen looked outside the kitchen window. "Why is it dark?"

"Because it's night time," I said; then, sensing the inadequacy of my reply, "The sun is on the other side of the planet."

"Why?"

"Because the planet is a giant ball. We're on the surface and spinning around. During the day, we face the sun. At night we're over here." I used my hands to illustrate these concepts: a fist for the sun, my other index finger indicating relative positions.

Owen had his own hand signifiers. Holding up his banana-free hand, fingers extended, he asked, "Does the sun have these spikey things?"

"Um, yes," I said. "Those are 'rays'."

"Why?"

I am not deterred by this most important of questions. "Because the sun is a giant ball of gas. It's on fire. The rays are heat."

"Can I eat my banana in the bedroom?" This is a trick question: he knows better.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I said so." This is a weapon used sparingly and judiciously.