Why?

Everyone out there with (older) kids will smile and sagely nod his or her head in response to this post. Because Margaret has reached the point where one of her favorite words is. . . Why?

Margaret is a pretty vocal little kid. (By the way, although this post isn't about him, so is Teddy. He just isn't terribly articulate or comprehensible at this point.) She loves to talk and talk about all sorts of things in a very piercing voice that cuts through everything else. That voice is very effective at waking you up in the middle of the night. Or, as the case may be, in the morning. As I think I wrote about before, Margaret talked the entire time during a flight from Chicago to DC. On the one hand, I was happy that she wasn't fussing, given that it was a late flight. But I also felt bad for everyone near us who had to listen to the incessant chirpy voice from a nearby seat. The upshot is that Margaret is very difficult to ignore.

Margaret also has interesting things to say. On our recent drive to Connecticut, we started trying to distract her with "stories" about her and Teddy. These stories, told by Abby, chronicle the first few days of one kid or the other. Margaret has found these stories to be fascinating and keeps requesting them. To the point that I'm pretty fed up with the whole "birth story" genre. After it became apparent that her requests for "my story" or "Teddy's story" wouldn't be met, she has started telling those stories on her own. It's fascinating to hear her take on our pre-kid life and the subsequent disruption caused by the arrival of the kids.

On our walk home, we have always had interesting conversations. But lately, she has started asking "why." It really doesn't matter what we're talking about - she just asks "why." "Why is the fire truck not in the fire station?" "Why did that person ask you for directions?" "Why do we have to cross the street?" "Why are you yelling at that taxi cab?" And so on.

The "why" sequences fall in two general classes. In the first, variations of the same question are repeated over and over.

For example, Gypsy, the cat belonging to a former neighbor, went AWOL a few months ago (and has not returned).

"Why did Gypsy leave?," Margaret will ask, during our walk home.

"I'm not sure. Gypsy didn't tell us," I'll reply.

"Why did Gypsy go away?"

"We should ask Marissa." (Gypsy's owner.)

A pause. "Why doesn't Marissa have Gypsy anymore?"

"I don't know."

"Why didn't Gypsy tell us when she left?"

"I don't know. We really don't know where she went."

"Why didn't Gypsy tell us where she went?"

"I don't know."

And so on, and so on. The general theme is that I don't know the answer and give a vague response, but Margaret won't let the issue go.

The second, and more sophisticated, form of "why" questioning involves questions that are distinct, but logically follow one another. For example, after running into Marissa while walking home:

"Where is Marissa going?"

"She's probably going home to walk Boone." (Her dog.)

"Why is she going to walk Boone?"

"Because he has been inside all day."

"Why has he been inside all day?"

"Because Marissa has been at work."

"Why has Marissa been at work?"

"Because that's what adults do, they go to work."

"Why do adults go to work?"

"Because that's what adults do."

"Why do adults do that?"

"Because they need to buy groceries and stuff."

"Why do they need to buy groceries?"

"Because people need to eat food."

And so on. Occasionally, Margaret will catch me in a tautology, because I rarely pay much attention to my responses. Such logical problems rarely seem to bother her. Instead, she's focused on getting answers to the series of questions that pop into her head.

Why, why, why?

Eventually, I get tired of the whole routine and try to distract her with another line of conversation. Currently, I often succeed. However, I suspect that she will eventually figure out when I'm stonewalling her or, alternatively, just bullshitting. That's when the "why" will really have bite.