Me: I need you to hold my hand when we’re crossing the street.
Rooby: Mom, I can take care of myself.
Me: I know you can. I’m worried about the cars that use the road. I don’t trust them to take care of you.
Rooby: You’re afraid they’ll squash your baby?
Me: Yes, exactly.
Rooby: Oh. That would be sad for you, if they squashed your baby.
Me: Yes, it would.
Rooby: But I know—you could just make another one!
Me: Another baby?
Rooby: Yes, you could make another baby. It would be just like me. But give it a different name. Like Sesame. Or Bulby.