Because

The kids got a hold of my camera. This is an extreme close up of Eva's Mousey.

When I was a kid, I was plagued (or maybe I was the plague) with all sorts of unanswered questions in my mind.

I had to KNOW.

This unleashed a myriad of "whys" on anybody taller than me.

I made the mistake of branching out my "whys" into other arenas, like the "Would you please do thus and so" arena that mom and dad would frequently frequent me about.

"Hey, you (they did the roll call too, but "you" sufficed), go clean the bathroom...*elbow from other parent* ...please."

"Why?" Came my innocent answer.

"BECAUSE I SAID SO!" And a the gust of hot air blew my small frame to the ground.

I didn't like that answer.

I'm sure mom and dad didn't like mine, either.  

I have tried to steer away from this sort of thing with my kids (I am not criticizing mom and dad for their parenting, truly. I understand the tiresome nature of "why" questions. More on that in a moment...) If they want to know why, I will tell them why.

"Mommy, why do I have to take bath?" (Joshua asks this frequently. It's like for him one bath was sufficient, and he should never have to do it again. I mean, he did it right the first time, why ruin a perfect record?)

"Because you are smelly, and dirty, and you are going to start attracting ants."

But this gets tiring, and I turn it around on them in the form of a question of my own, and my response it, "Would you please stop asking me silly questions like that?"

But I still try to actually give an answerr most of the time. Like today.

I was sitting at the dinner table, sagging a little in my chair. A long day of looking at animals clean themselves, each other, piddle on rocks, eat paper hearts (in honor of Valentine's day) and sleep, wore me out. I was trying to fall asleep in my chair, but had to monitor Eva's lack-luster feelings towards her fancy Dole Southwest salad.

"Mom?" Eva started. "Are you tired?"

I looked at her through heavy, painful eyelids.

"Yes...I've had a long day."

"Why?" She asked innocently. I suddenly had gooshy feelings about how I must have looked as a child asking the same question, but then decided that the reason the 'rents didn't fall all over themselves to answer my heart-felt questions was because I wasn't as cute as Eva. Or nearly as tidy-looking. That came later. Like, two years ago. 

I honestly don't remember my response to her, but I felt the need to explain in some detail why.

It's important to me that she feels like her questions matter.

Especially since I stopped the car this morning on the way to the zoo and spanked her because she refused to say "amen" at the end of our traveling prayer.

Sigh...

Ya win some, ya lose some.

Monkeys