Recursive Bedtime Fail

Every night I'm obliged to provide my daughter with a 'dream seed' - a suggestion of some interesting thoughts she should fall asleep to. This is generally the hardest part of my day.

The other night I was proud to tell the story of a little girl who couldn't think of what to dream about, so she called for a gryphon to come and fly her away to the King of Dreams' palace (plagiarising freely from Neil Gaiman here...), where she went to the great Library of Dreams where every possible dream is kept. She took a book down from the shelf and started reading about a little girl who didn't know what to dream about, who called for a gryphon to come and take her to...

At this point she indignantly said "Dad! Don't make my dreams like philosophy!"

If no one appreciates me I'll just go into the garden and eat worms.