Thursday, 25 February 2010

But why?

And breathe.

Raising The Peaceful One is like having a dog.

Not that I've ever owned one as I'm a cat person. But in the sense that dogs need plenty of fresh air and need to run and run. It's pretty exhausting stuff.

I can't imagine what is going through his mind right now, but I wouldn't like to be inside it.

My guess is it's something like this.


And on it goes, question after question after question. All day long (sung to the tune of The Wheels On The Bus).

If I don't answer correctly and flippantly say 'because it just is' or 'I don't know darling' or 'Why do you think it is?' all hell breaks loose because Mummy Must Know.

I end up making up the most ridiculous answers in the hope that I can bore him into submission. 'The reason is because blah de blah blah blah de blah.' It never actually works, as whatever I say always ends with a 'but why?'

The threes are a testing age. Terrible twos are nothing compared to the threes. With more vocabulary to use, life becomes a verbal stand off.

For example:

The Peaceful One: "Can I have some sweeties?"
Me: "It's too early for sweets."
TPO: "But why?"
Me: "Because it's the morning."
TPO: "But why can't I have sweeties."
Me: "I've just told you. It's too early."
TPO: "I want sweeties." Stamps feet.

In a bid to distract him from the topic I say:

"We're going to the supermarket and then meeting friends at playgroup."
TPO: "Which playgroup?"
Me: "A new one up the road."
TPO: "Who are we meeting?"
Me: "Luke and Sophie.
TPO: "But why?"
Me: "Because they're our friends."
TPP: "Who are?"

At this point I'm ready to stick forks in my eyes.

I have a question myself. Is it the weekend yet?

1 comment:

  1. very nearly, my dear, very nearly! Mine are like dogs in the way they poo and wee in corners and then look all furtive and guilty.