Seeing our kids grow into little beings, I think back to the days when we couldn’t wait for them to start talking and now that those days have arrived, I wish to god for some SILENCE.
The days of sleeping in are as extinct as the dinosaurs. Even when we take it in turns to crawl out and sprawl one-eyed on the couch, drawing the little critters toward us and away from the bedroom like a human mozzie-zapper, so the other one can get 10 seconds of extra sleep. The screaming, yelling, laughing and crying penetrates the walls and drills into your semi-conscious brain like an incessant woodpecker. And then there’s the noise from the kids.
But now that they’ve found their voices, the questions are coming thick and fast. Not since the advent of TV game show Sale of the Century, has anyone been drilled incessantly with questions by a pint-sized ‘Tony Barber’ (or is that, actual size?). I always knew this day was coming and I felt I was more than ready for it, but I completely underestimated the stamina of a 3 year old’s ability to ask the same question over and over before I went insane.
The FBI and KGB have nothing on a 3 year old and the Chinese water torture is but a drop in the tsunami of banal questioning that’s washed over us on a daily basis.
I’m a product of the X-generation but this kid is definitely…
I have no problem handling the ‘springboard why’ questions; the ones that naturally spring from one thing to the next such as,
‘Why that boy riding that bike? Why he got that helmet on? Why he face-planted into that pole?’
It’s the ‘I just told you why’ questions that start the twitch in my left eye, the accelerated heart-rate and the quiet rocking and giggling in a straight-jacket in the corner, that really gets my goat.
‘Why Alice got no nuts?’
Because Alice is a girl.
‘But why she got no nuts?’
Because she’s not a boy.
‘Boys have nuts?’
‘Then why Alice got no nuts?
Because Alice is a girl.
‘Where her nuts? Why her nuts gone?’
**Go to my happy place, go to my happy place, go to my happy place.**
It’s great that he’s so inquisitive and I do my best to be as honest and as upfront as possible, but there comes a point when you can no longer repeatedly factually explain that ‘Playing with your penis too much will make it sore and red’, and erupt into ‘Because a unicorn might swoop down and bite it off.’
And as you drop the mic and walk off stage, you get a heckle from the crowd…
‘Unicorn got nuts?’