Ian has reached the age where we have some really very philosophical conversations in the car.

Ian: Mommy, who’s Barbie? (I was no more prepared for this question than I was for “what’s God?”)
Me: She’s a freakish looking doll that people give to little girls.
Ian: Oh. (A moment later) Why do they do that?
Me: I don’t know, maybe they think it’s cool.
Ian: Oh. Well, does she go to the pumpkin patch?
Me: No. She wears very impractical shoes so she hardly ever gets to do really fun stuff.
Ian: Why not?
Me: Her shoes would get dirty.
Ian: (in his “that’s crazy” voice) Oh. Then where does she live?
Me: In a little plastic house.
Ian: (silence)
Me: She does have really pretty hair.
Ian: Hm.