My little nephew is constantly asking why-why-why, but that’s because he’s 2. That’s what he does. You could give 27 different answers and it makes no difference to him. My 5-year-old daughter, however, asks questions that twist my brain into pretzels – usually while I’m driving and can’t pay full attention anyway.
Sometimes it’s all I can do not to holler, “Jesus H. Tap-Dancing Chr— I don’t know, Carla!”
The questions all flow out of things that happen in our world and bubble up later – such as the escalator we rode three days ago at Macy’s, the GPS stolen from our neighbor’s car in 2008 or when I broke my arm. In 1983.
I drove our dog Roxanne to a kennel before our family vacation last week – it took an hour and a half – and here’s a glimpse at Carla’s Quiz Show during the ride.
Why doesn’t the kennel open until 4 p.m.?
How many nights will we stay at the beach?
How do you break your arm?
Did a dog bite Roxanne before?
How do you make an escalator?
How can dogs die?
Can burglars get into our car? How?
How do you make sand?
Why was Eddie’s baseball coach’s truck so loud?
How can oil spill in water? Like in the Gulf of Mexico?
Can a chicken fly?
Why did you turn when that sign said no turn on red?
And now that school’s out, Eddie got in on the act today, asking, “Dad, has our country ever lost a war?”