I am patient and I love teaching. I know that children go through a stage of asking ‘Why?’ a lot. With my first child, I looked forward to this stage, eager to mold curiosity into knowledge. Jacqueline broke my spirit.

 

The first few days of ‘Why?’ are a joy. As you explain why-this and why-that, you picture her doctor’s diploma on the wall. Soon you learn, however, that no matter how simple the topic, if you answer ‘why’ several times in a row, it always leads to an in-depth discussion on science or philosophy.

 

Here is an example of the 5 ways I deal with the Why-Infinities. I am driving my 2-and-a-half-year-old daughter and little baby to the store. It begins innocently with my remark that, “It’s a nice day today.”

“Why?”

“The sun is out.”

“Why?”

“Because there aren’t any clouds.”

“Why?”

“Clouds form only when there’s water in the air.”

“Why?”

“Jacqueline, look at that big truck!”

 

This was the first method of stemming a Why-Infinity: Redirect Their Thoughts. The drive continues.

 

“Jacqueline, put your seatbelt back on. You have to wear it.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, you might get hurt in a car accident.”

“Why?”

“Because you might crash through the window.”

“Why?”

 

At this point, I could discuss physics with someone who’s only been alive for 2 years. Instead, I try method 2: Circular Logic.

“You might crash through the window because you didn’t have your seatbelt on.”

“Why, Mommy, why?”

“Because you didn’t do it up!” (My answers are less thought-out now.)

“Why?”

“Forget it, Jacqueline. Just do it up!”

This was method 3: Refuse to Answer. I feel like a failure and challenge myself to be more patient next time.

 

“Jacqueline, can you smell Alexander? Did he go in his diaper?”

“Yes… why?”

“Everybody does.”

“Why?”

“Because after you eat, the food gets used by your body, then the leftover stuff comes out the other end.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to make room inside you for more food.”

“Why?”

“Because we eat a lot every day.”

“Why?”

“We need the food for energy and to grow big.”

“Why, mommy?”

 

This is leading to biochemistry, so I employ method 4: Vagueness.

“Because that’s the way we are.”

“Why?”

 

Figuring I’ll have more luck with religion than philosophy — despite being agnostic — I say, “God made us that way.”

“Why!”

We’ve both long forgotten what way God made us, but we don’t care. This is a battle of endurance.

“God wanted to make us that way.”
“Why?”

“I DON’T KNOW WHY.”

“Why?”

 

That was the last method: Cop Out. It doesn’t work because the use of ‘why’ is infinite. Whining like a 3-year-old, I continue, but I know I’m losing.

 

“I don’t know everything.”

“Why?”

“No one does.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!”

“Why?”

“Jacqueline, you can’t keep asking me ‘why’.

As her little lips form the word, I turn on the radio, LOUD.