Skip to main content

why

Posted by Picasa


My son is in the why phase.
We’ve been here a while actually.
And most of the time it makes me want to pull my hair out.
I try to give him answers when I can.
Because I think all that asking is part of how he learns.
He is a sponge soaking up every little piece of information that he can.
Even if I think it isn’t important or doesn’t matter.
He wants to know.
The conversations are frustrating because we always get to a point where I don’t know or am exhausted of talking in circles.
And cave in and say just because.
Which oddly enough satisfies him, at least until he thinks of his next question.

If you have never lived with a 4-5 year old something as simple as cooking hamburger meat involves at least a dozen whys.
“Why are you cooking the meat”
So we can eat it?
Why?
Because I am hungry and thought you might want dinner?
But Why?
So we can grow and have energy?
Why?
Because your cells need energy from food to do work?
Why?
…I contemplate talking teaching him about ATP and cellular respiration and the Krebs cycle but decide this conversation can wait a good ten years. Or maybe forever.
So I just say because.
And he says hmmm…and pauses for a second.
I think I am safe and go back to stirring the meat.

And then he pipes back up,
But why do you have to cook it?
So you don’t get sick and it will probably taste better that way.
Why?
Because little bacteria live in the meat and when we get it hot enough it kills them.
Why?
Well because the heat kills all the salmonella?
What’s sam-vanilla?
I was so thankful not to hear a why question….that I almost taught him everything I know about microbiology right then.
Instead, I suggested he go into the living room and watch cartoons while I finished dinner.
Why?
So you survive to be six.
Why?
Because. A little too loudly and firmly. And he happily shuffled into the other room for some Dragon Tails.
This happens dozens of times a day and drives me crazy.

Recently someone asked me a question about something a wrote and it boiled down to some fundamental thing that I had been taught. For like ever.
And for the first time since I was probably five. I asked why.
These days I rarely ask why.
If I am a sponge I am full.
But maybe the things I am full of are starting to stink.

So I asked why I felt that way.
Which made me do some research.
Which led to more questions.
A lot of wheres and whats and lots more whys.
And my friends aren’t sure what to do when I call them before 9am and start laying out some heavy theology.
My husband threatened to send me to seminary.
Another referred me to her husband.
Another played devil’s advocate.
Which were all good responses.
But my favorite response was a fresh pot of coffee. A big tall mug.
And the freedom to ask a lot of whys.
And she didn’t pull her hair out once.

And guess what.
We never even answered the initial question.
But I left her house a little more resolved and refreshed and full.
Like a sponge.

Comments

Stacia said…
All the whys are so tough. And then I imagine what it must feel like to have the whole world out there waiting to be examined and understood, and I have a teeny bit more patience ... for an hour or two anyway. =>
amber_mtmc said…
Why. The question that is so important, so heavy, and, sometimes, so irritating. I remember so many of my siblings entering into that stage and the incessant questions. I think I learned to distract them with something like reading a book or dancing. I don't know what I'll do with my kids when they get that way.
I get lots of why questions....great post

Popular posts from this blog

pace yourself

Tonight I went running with a friend ten years my junior. I asked her how far she was running and when she said only about 1.5 or 2 miles, I teased her that I could go at least twice that far. And to just let me know when she needed to stop. I have been running pretty regularly for the last few weeks. It isn’t long but keep increasing my time and distance. I’ve stopped getting blisters. I don’t suck wind after five minutes anymore and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Thinking I might even be able to out run this girl who was so much younger and obviously in more shape than me. As we started to jog I told her that I run pretty slow. Like my husband used to walk beside me while I ran, slow. And she slowed her gait a little bit for me but it was still faster than I usually go. I was a little embarrassed and was not going to ask her to slow down again. So I just ran at her pace. I stayed close. And was fading fast. A little over a mile in I was ready to quit. Again, pride, which isn...

pursue something else.

Americans like the idea of happy. of pursuing happiness. It is even one of our inalienable rights at least according to the Declaration of Independance. But I think maybe we should pursue something else. like love or joy or peace or contentment. and leave happy alone. Don't read me wrong. I am neither bitter nor cynical. Even my problems are good problems. I am positive. Half full. And most days I laugh a whole lot more than I cry. And simple things like a dance party in the living room, an hour alone in Barnes and Noble, the yellow pajama pants my son picked out for me for mother's day, potstickers, clean sheets, someone surprising me with coffee, jeans fresh from the dryer, a good song on the radio, or squeals of delight when I walk in the door all make my heart sing. They make me happy. For a minute. But when the squealing turns to screaming, my new pants are dirty, the sheets are in a jumble on the floor or the coffee runs out....where does that leave me? And happy isn'...

my first dance

My wedding day is a little bit of a blur. And it was a great day. But so many people and so much going on and so many moments that it is hard to remember them all clearly without the help of photographs. But I totally remember my first dance as a bride. And it wasn’t with my husband. Or even my father, or brother. I had quickly kicked off my heels and hid them underneath a table. Said my hellos and hugs and smiled until my face hurt. Someone ushered us through the buffet line and I piled my plate with hors d'oeuvres and headed to a table. But before I could pop a single shrimp in my mouth someone grabbed me firmly by the arm and pulled me onto the dance floor and into a jitterbug before I could protest. It was my husband’s granddaddy. A man I had only met about a few times and heard say about as many words. So I was a little surprised when he spun me around the dance floor. Eventually that night I danced with my husband. And my dad. And probably even my brother. But my fir...