Reading children’s books now for obvious reasons, and they raise all sorts of questions I never had back in the day. Like, inĀ Goodnight Moon, why is there a telephone in the little kid’s room? Why the heck is there a little mouse running around? Shouldn’t the old lady – or the kittens – do something about that? Why is there a random red balloon just chillin’ there? And why are they leaving the bowl of mush out overnight? What kind of awful house is this?