Shortly after 6 am, L, my daughter, has been coming into our dark bedroom. She peers at the edge of our too tall for her bed with many statements of fact to start the day. “It dark outside; Mom, “S” sleeping in crib; Here my bear; My pink socks in my bed; I go potty now;” etc.

Yesterday morning she asked, “Mom you sleeping?” To which I whispered, “Yes”, and rolled toward to wall. “Why,” called out the little stranger at my bedside.  I could feel my eyes get wide. Ah, until then she never mentioned the word.  Why, ask Why, I thought to myself. My dear daughter until now you never questioned what I had to say.

It was the start of a whole new toddler. Today, everything has been why. Why you doing that; why that up there, why, why, why? Most of my responses have been simply “because”. It’s such a wimpy answer, but at times it’s the only one. (Let me pause to apologize to my own mother) With each “why & because” I feel an age wrinkle form on my forehead. I feel like a mother.

This is the day Luke once mentioned he was looking forward to. I recall when L was a mere five pounds, he would look at the peanut and get gitty with excitement over it. “I am looking forward to answering all of her questions, and teaching her why everything is.”

Maybe it has to do with my art major and the mountain of art critiques I sat through, but I don’t get all that pumped about explaining “why something is the way it is” anymore. Thank God my husband enjoys it, because now when L asks, “Why”, I simply say, “Go ask your father.”