WHY?

Nalou


Since school has shut down for the summer, the oldest of my rug rats, Nalou, has been spending his days either with his maternal grandparents or with me here at home. He has always been an observant child. Now, instead of just studying things in his quiet way, he has become a delegate for the word “Why?”. I’m sure he asked me a thousand questions yesterday, some that were not thought out, and each followed by another ‘why?’. My patience was getting frayed; concentration on my work was impossible.

“Why is your favorite word, isn’t it?” I finally said to him. That knowing little smile of his told me he knew this adult was near her point of exasperation. He nodded, and waited for all of 3 minutes to let things cool down before starting all over again. I put my accounting work aside. My grandson’s eyes widened with pleasure when he realized that he now had my full attention. What he didn’t know, and was about to learn, is that I’ve remembered how to deal with this. My oldest son, Bow, was the champion for questions when he was Nalou’s age.

“Why do you keep asking me questions?” I was looking straight at him. He shrugged, staring down at the pencil he had been twirling on my desk.

“Because I want to know,” he replied.

“But why do you want to know?” He looked up at me.

“Because I’m still young. I have lots to learn.” No doubt his dad had given him that information!

“But why are you still young?” He thought about it.

“Well...because...” He looked to the side – this was one he had to think about. “Because I was only born a little while ago.”

“Why were you only born a little while ago?”

His response was more a question than a statement. “Because my mother and father waited to have me?”

“Why did they wait to have you?”

Our conversation continued on in this vein, but it didn’t take him long to figure it out.

“I know why you’re asking me these questions,” he declared.

“Why am I asking you these questions?” I was trying to keep a straight face.

“Because I’m being a pest by asking you why all the time.” Another piece of information no doubt imparted by his dad.

“So you know that - and often if you think about it you’ll know the answer yourself!” He nodded again, pursing his lips in the ‘busted’ expression.

“Then why are you still being a pest?” I couldn’t hold it back any longer. He saw my grin and started to laugh.

“Aww, M’mere!!” he answered. That was quickly followed by a “Can we do something else now?”

Sure we could. I pulled out the hose for my central vacuum, gave him a few instructions, and let him go at it. It kept him busy for a half hour or so. By then it was time to pick up his younger brothers from daycare. We had not left the driveway when he pointed to the infuser hanging from my mirror.

“What’s that?” he asked?

“It’s to make the truck smell good.” I answered.

“Why does it make the truck smell good?”

“Why do you think it makes the truck smell good?” I parried. He caught my glance, and replied quickly.

“Because it’s an infuser.” He said. I looked back at the road.

“Uh-huh!”

Comfortable in our truce, we both SMILED.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec