Friday, June 4, 2010

Homicidal Questions

Scarlett and I are going to the store. She climbs in the car. I buckle her in her car seat. I get buckled into my seat. I start the car. And then? The questions start.

"Mommy, can we go to Walmart to buy food?"

"That's what we're doing, sweetie."

"Mommy, can we go that way?"

"We have to go this way to get to Walmart."

"Walmart is this way?"

Sigh. "Yes."

"Mommy, do you see the spaceship?"

There is a school between our house and Walmart. Their sign proudly proclaims they are a "NASA Explorer School." Whatever that means. But they have a small (compared to the real thing) rocket ship out front, and Scarlett loves to point it out. "Yes, I see it."

"Mommy, did we make the spaceship?"


"Did other people make the spaceship?"

Sigh. "Yes, baby, other people made the spaceship."

"Did the man make the spaceship?" My sister took Scarlett with her to get her toenails painted at a "real" nail shop. Apparently, once, it was a man who painted Scarlett's toes pink. Since then? She likes to ask if "the man" has done this or that.

"I don't know, honey. People at the school made the spaceship."

"The school made the spaceship?"

Sigh. "Yes."

"Can I go to school?"

At this point, I feel like my nerves are being slowly murdered. Each question is like a merciless stab from a razor-sharp hunting knife and my poor defenseless nerves are pooling blood into my tired brain. "It's summertime, Scarlett. Nobody's going to school. School is closed."

"What's summertime?"

Aargh! "Summertime is when it's hot out and nobody goes to school and it's when your birthday is."

"What's a birthday?"

"Your birthday is when you were born from Mommy's tummy and you turn a year older and you get cake and presents."

"Mommy, what's cake?"

"You know what cake is." I say this a lot. Except with other words in the place of cake.

"Did the man make my cake?"

Sigh. "I don't know. I don't know what the man is doing. Can you please be quiet and stop asking me questions for five minutes? Mommy has a headache."

Scarlett is quiet for all of two seconds. Then, in a whisper: "Mommy, what's a headache?"



  1. I love Scarlett! She asks so many questions, but she really learns it. She is so smart for a two/three year old. I think it has to be because of Mommy and Grandma Carol reading to her, and answering her million questions. Her questions for me usually stay limited to, "Daddy, can you dance with me?" or "Daddy, can we play pretend basketball" (a game where you make your arms into a big hoop, and she throws the ball in). I just can't say no when she looks up at me all cute and wants to play. I will miss her when Sosie is old enough to play....but I will enjoy the free time, too.

  2. love this.... i remember when my kids were asking those questions... now i am the one asking...where are you going? why? who will be there? what will you be
    i miss those little homicidal Questions....looking forward to reading more from you....


  3. @Michael - Sometimes you sound like a politician. Also? Your plot psychicness has now extended to real life, because after I read your comment, Scarlett asked me to play the "basketball" game.

    @Hope - thanks for reading! I'm glad you enjoyed it. Even though I know it will go away too fast? I still wish she knew how to be quiet sometimes! Haha!

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