"Mama," my nine-year-old son said. "Do you know why we have heads?"
I tried to suppress a grin. "No, Bubba. I have no idea why we have heads."
"They hold our brains."
"Oh. Well, I lost my mind a long time ago, so I probably don't need my head," I said.
"But you need it to blink your eyes. And swallow. And sometimes sneeze."
I looked at the boy. "But Bubba, don't you need a brain to be able to do all those things? I don't have a brain. So why do I need a head?"
He took his hooded jacket and placed the hood over the top of my head. "To hold my jacket!"