"Why are you crying? What's wrong?" I'm trying to cook dinner; I'm not in the most tolerant of moods.
"The sharks..." she sobs.
"What sharks? Where?" I desperately glance down to see if she's punctured her foot with a toy shark.
"In the ocean."
We live 50 miles from the ocean. Getting my aging minivan to go over the hills to see the ocean is not a journey I take lightly.
"What about the sharks in the ocean?" I sit down for this.
"All the fish are gone. They must be hiding."
"Okay, why do you care about the fish being gone?"
"They won't have anything to eat! If they don't eat the fish, the sharks will die!" I can hear the gong of doom in her voice, the timpani of her sobbing.
"You do understand that the fish don't want to be eaten, maybe that's why they're hiding."
"The sharks..." she sobs again.
"Okay, some of the fish must be too slow to hide. They can eat them."
"Really?" She perks up. Tears gone.
She's so weird. I heart her.
And this sympathy for vampires that I have? I think it's genetic.