There’s a pretty big storm outside. All of a sudden Brin starts going “caw ca-CAW!” like a crow. I ask what she’s doing, and she says, “I’m making the storm go away with my loud sounds.”

I’m looking over Brin’s shoulder as she draws in a little notepad when she informs me, “Dad, you have to leave me alone when I’m art-ing.”

Apropo of nothing, Brin looks up at me shortly after waking up and says, “Dad, your hair is long.”

I ask if that’s a good or bad thing.

“Bad! It looks bad.”

Brin is holding her shimmering unicorn toy. With a wistful look on her face, she tells me, “I was dreaming of a dream.”