The figurative carrot, literally

The other night Theo went to bed as usual, but unusually after Jon left his room he started crying out. Jon had to home teach, so I went in to give him what he always asks for, water. But he was not asking for water.

"Carra... I want a carra!"

I tried to figure it out--"Carra? What does that mean?" I asked him the only word I could think of that made sense. "Carrot?"

"Yeah."

"You want a carrot?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because... I want a carrot."

"We can't eat a carrot right now. We need to go to sleep," I said, very confused. I didn't believe him. He's never asked for a carrot in his life. Instead I tried to give him a toy wooden carrot on the floor. Maybe he wanted to sleep with it? But it seemed to make matters worse. I left him, thinking that like a midnight delirium, he would forget all about it after I walked away. But he didn't, wailing for a carrot for ten minutes. I went back in, and the tears were real, the carrot still desired beyond all else in that moment. I figured that giving in to a toddler's very unusual request for a nightcap vegetable wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

So I got him one. And in the dark I heard a silent, content crunching, followed by sleep.