I'm in the middle of a dream about an ice cream store heist and counterfeit ten shekel pieces when I am shaken awake by my eldest daughter:
"Mommy, can I cut my pillow?"
"Huh????" was my erudite reply.
"Can I cut my pillow?"
"With scissors?! No you cannot cut your pillow!"
"But MOMMY, a feather came out of it! And the feather is so soft and perfect!"
"Srochel, the pillow is a feather pillow. That's the way it's made. It's full of feathers."
"Oh," she says, in a very disappointed way.
She leaves my room and I hear her return to her sleepover guest and tell her:
"There's no magic. My mother says it's just the way it's made."
And some part of me now wishes I had let her cut it open, and never told her some pillows are 'just made' out of feathers.