I knew about three year olds. I'd heard that they like to ask questions. Danny started out shortly after his third birthday with the questions. The progression has been interesting. He started with What's that? and moved on to What's that thing do?
Now that he's established what everything is and what it does, he digs a little deeper. He wants to to know why. We get this question a couple dozen times a day. I'd been bracing for this so hard that I remember the first why question he asked. He was 3 years and 9 months old and the question was about gum. Why is it stretchy, he wanted to know. And I thought, "Great. The first why and I have no answer."
Two months later, I'm still stumped on a daily basis. Today's stumper? Why do I have to be respectful, he asks. Is "Because I said so, you little snot" an acceptable answer? (I didn't say that ... I just sent him to his room for a nap AFTER I made him pick up all the toys he angrily threw on the floor. And, no dear family, I don't wonder at all where he gets his temper, kay?)
Why should he have all the fun? I have a few questions of my own and most seem to have no good answer. But feel free to take a stab at any of these.
If my kids barely eat, why is my grocery bill nearly $500 a month?
If I barely eat (really, who has time for that with three kids), why am I not losing that much weight? And, again, why is my grocery bill so high?
Where do my children get all their energy if all they eat are apples?
Why does the child who is unfazed by pee pee pants scream like crazy when a drop of water or juice spills on his shorts?
Why do my kids take one sip of water from their water bottles then abandon them, but fall all over themselves to take a sip from my water bottle?
Why can my husband spend a morning with the kids and report that the girl child "didn't whine a bit" but when I spend the day with the kids there's more whine than a Napa Valley vineyard?
Why can my husband ignore the children and get work done around the house while I can't fold a basket of laundry without a dozen interruptions? (Not that I'm complaining, but, seriously, why does he get to look like Super Dad while I can barely fold a basket of laundry or mop the floor or clean out a closet?)
Why do the children only cry and whine at me in the kitchen but not my husband? We tested this theory the other day. Fiona began crying the second I walked in the kitchen. My husband had been in there for a few minutes already.
Why is that I can get three kids (and myself) dressed, fed and strapped into car seats and the diaper bag packed and ready for church in less than an hour but be waiting in the van for my husband? I mean, it's not like he's up there putting on make up or anything. (Actually, this man spends more time on grooming than I do.)
When I've had such a rough day with the kids that I do a little happy dance after they go to bed, why do I suddenly feel the urge to check on them when they're sleeping? Oh, wait, maybe I know the answer to this one: Because it's easier to conjure up positive thoughts about a silent, sleeping child.