Xantheville

Xanthe offered to buy a unicorn for us to take on family vacation.
She asked Trajan if he was the guy in the mouse suit at Chuck E. Cheese.
She thinks the lyrics to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star are, "Ubba bubba whirl so high."
She calls dinner lunch and breakfast dinner.
She asked me when she was going to be in my tummy, and if Jesus was living in the wall.
It's like she's on a bad acid trip all the time. Her relationship with the world the rest of us live in seems pretty flexible, but she doesn't seem to mind.

Just when I think she'll never bridge the gap between Xantheville and Planet Earth, she demonstrates that she knows exactly what's up. For example, she remembers with perfect clarity that I was late picking her up from ballet once, back in September. Every week when she goes to ballet, we have the same conversation in which she asks accusingly, "Where are you going now? Are you going to be here when I get out?" She also knows, at any given moment, which kid in her class has the Show-n-Tell bag, what day of the week it is, and whether there are M&M's in the glove box.

Those are useful things to know, but what I want to know is, where do you buy a unicorn?