Eating the Universe

It seems Smartypants, with her insatiable thirst for knowledge, has, in her eternal pursuit of understanding, developed a rather bleak view pertaining to the end of the world, and I would like to share with you her stunning take on the destruction of the universe.

The fundamentals of her philosophy became apparent to me in the car yesterday, when I complained I was hungry.

"What will you eat?" she asked.

"Maybe some pizza."

"We don't have any pizza."

"What do we have?"

"We don't have any food.  We're in the car."

"Ahh!  Then I'll eat the car."

Here she giggles at my absurdity.  "If you eat the car," she says, "we won't be able to drive home."

"Oh.  Then I'll eat someone else's car."

"But then they won't be able to drive home."

"Then I'll eat the road."

"Then NOBODY can drive home."

I was fascinated by her reasoning. Nevermind the impossibility of me eating the road. She's more concerned with the results such an unlikely event might produce.

"Well," I said, "I guess I'll just eat the whole world."

"You'll get sick, daddy."

Now it was my turn to laugh, but a quick check in the rear view mirror proved she was quite serious.

"I won't get sick.  In fact, I'm so hungry, I'll eat the universe!"

"Oh Daddy." This she spoke in that demeaning, don't-be-stupid-daddy tone she often employs when my silliness has stretched too far. But she wasn't finished.

"If you eat the universe," she said, pontificating on the repercussions of such an endeavor, "there won't be any parties!"

And there you have it. A four-year-old's take on the end of the world. If the universe fails to exist (or is sucked down Daddy's gullet), all parties as we know them will cease to exist. A horribly bleak future, in my opinion. So I proposed something else.

"No parties?!  We can't let that happen," I said.  "Guess I'll just eat some pizza."

"Oh Daddy."

‍