13 Feb 2014

Why.

The dreaded question that my eldest has learned to utter. I think I hear this word easily a million times a day. It's the constant hum that fills my day. Like a little whir in the background of all I do. 

Every. Waking. Moment. 

Some days I approach the "why" with positivity, with excitement and answer the question knowing I'm feeding my child inquisitive nature. Like "why do planes fly in the sky" and "why do cakes need to go in the oven to cook" I try and explain answers to him that make sense. Like "planes fly in the sky to take people places, like cars do" or " cakes cook in the oven as the hot oven makes them rise up" 

Then there are days where I answer his question with a question. "Why do you think you have to hold my hand while we cross the road" or " why do you think you have to get dressed to go to school" my questions are quite often answered with "I don't know why" which I prompt with " yes you do know, have a think" and sometimes I get the answer "I know the answer to this one mummy" 

Then there are days where I have to count to 10, take deep breaths and step away slowly from the situation. Days where his inquisitive mind is too much to bear. "Don't jump on the chair" "why mummy" "because you could fall and hurt yourself" "why mummy" "because your jumping on the chair" "why mummy"
****and breathe****

I love him with all I have. He's my first born. He's so wonderful and funny. But sometimes he drives me crazy. 

A real mummy confession.  

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