Enter the "Why"

When my two sons were just a couple of inert infants, I used to look forward to the day they could talk. Then they started talking, and I found out what a bliss it is to be around people who can't talk back. Bliss. Now, not only do they talk back, but they do something far more dangerous: they reason.

"Mom, why are you making huevos for Papa?"

"Because he likes them, so I'm making them."

"But why?"

"Because he likes them."

"But why?"

You get the picture. This morning was a headbanger of "why"s.

"Mom, why are you wearing that shirt?" He looks at my multi-colored, hippy-patterned, long sleeve cotton shirt from Target and I'm suddenly defensive.

"Because I want to."

"But why?"

"Because it's the first thing I got out of my drawer."

"But why?"

"Because it doesn't make me look fat."

This silences him. Julian has been on the Cheerios and Cheezits diet nearly since birth, so the idea of not wanting to look fat has not been a concern of his so far.

I go into the boys' bedroom to wake up Ian. Professor Julian Emeritus is trailing me.

"Mom, why are you waking up Ian?"

"Because he needs to get up for school."

"But why?"

"Because he does. He just does." I'm sort of running out of answers that will stop him dead in his tracks, like the 'looking fat' answer, so I opt for the totally unimaginative, which starts to rile him.

"BUT whhhhyyyyyy? Why are you getting him up?"

"Because Mommy will be in really big trouble if he's late to school."

"But why?"

"Because life's not fair for Mommy at all."

"But why?"

"Because you boys drive me bonkers."

"But why?"

Now I've got him. The old answer-a-question-with-a-question: "I don't know Julian. Why do you and Ian drive me bonkers?"

He's totally, utterly stumped. Then, probably while he is considering the word "bonkers", he collapses into a fit of giggles. He points at me and laughs and laughs and laughs.

I should try that answer next time.