Acid Trip or Four?

While sitting around eating lunch today, the Giant Four Year Old says: "what makes my brain work?"

I say: "huh, what? what makes your brain work?"

He says: "no, I mean, what makes ME work?"

I think man, this kid is a seriously deep thinker, and then I say: "well, your brain does I guess. your brain makes you work."

He says: "oh. really? I thought it was the little white men in the black hats."

Um, what? The little white men? In the black hats?

Does he mean something like this:



Maybe he meant to say "the black man in the black hat":



Or, "the white man in the black hat":



(Shudder.)

And then I thought, and I was thinking fast -- because seriously, what the fuck -- I thought, I hope to God it is not this little man



who is operating with his tiny cohorts somewhere inside my kid's skull. Because that's just taking this whole inane comment to a whole other freakishly scary level that I am not sure I can handle. At all.

He pushed his yogurt away, licked his lips, hopped off the chair and attempted to tell me a knock knock joke which went like this:

Knock Knock?
Who's there? I say (half-assed because I am too busy obsessing about the tiny white men).
Mom.
Yeah, I say.

No, he says.

Wait? what? I say. (Tiny white men. In black hats. In son's head.)

Knock, knock?
Who's there?
Mom.
Yes! What? What do you want? I thought you were telling a joke. (Black hats. Little men. In head)

I am dumbass, he says. You say, Mom who?

Oh. Mom who?

Mom, you are CRAZY!

And then I tell him are you calling me crazy? you're the one with little white men in black hats inside your head! isn't this all a little pot calling the kettle names? that's a good one!