It’s already started. Not only has Eliza begun asking every question, regardless whether she knows the answer, about 7-9 times, but now she’s adding the “why.” Here’s the most recent example from our car ride an hour ago:
Eliza: “Mommy, where ah we going?”
Me: “We’re going on an adventure to the store.”
E: “But where ah we going?”
Me: “I just told you. We’re going to the store.”
E (after pausing two seconds): “Where ah we going, Mommy?”
Me: “We’re going to the knitting store for some yarn.” (Perhaps she’s curious about exactly where we’re going.)
E: “Where ah we going?”
Me: “Where do you think?”
E (pause): “Where ah we going?”
Me: “I’m not going to tell you again.”
E: “Why?”
Me: “Because I already told you.”
E: “Why?”
Me: “I’m not going to talk anymore right now.”
E: “Why?”
Silence.
This, I know, is going to be the story of my life from here on out. I did this to my own parents ad nauseum. I can recall a specific conversation my dad and I had when I was about five.
Dad: “Beanie, just eat your vegetables.”
Me: “Why?”
Dad: “Because they’re good for you.”
Me: “Why?”
Dad: “Because they have vitamins and nutrients your body needs. Just eat them.”
Me: “Why?”
Dad: “Because God made them that way.”
Me: “Why?”
Dad: “Because I said so.”
Me: “That’s not a reason.”
The curse of genetics strikes again. It’s fine. I know I’m just getting a piece of my own medicine. I always swore I would never say, “Because I said so” to my kids because it drove me nuts when my dad did it to me. But this one’s for you, Sparky. I get it now. I’m just going to try to avoid using it as long as possible. Because I know it won’t be long before Eliza responds, “That’s not a reason.”
I can't even pee in peace 