With a sleep-puffed face, bloodshot eyes, and his yellow hair sticking out from his head in all directions my Little Guy came to me in the middle of the night and said,

“Mom, if I had a dinosaur pet and he was mean to you and nice at me, then I would name him Mad.”

“Matt?”

“No! MAAAAAAAAAD! Mad! That’s why he can bite you but he doesn’t bite me.”

I’m glad we straightened that out.