I realize that at the tender ages of two and almost four, the Terrors do not have the answers to very many questions. In fact, they have far more questions than I ever thought possible, and no answers at all. But I have a few things I would like to ask.
1. When you can see me clearly doing something basic, like, say, dishes, why do you ask "Whatcha doin', Mummy?"
2. When I say "Come here" why do you seem to hear "Go there"?
3. If your actions are making your sibling cry, why don't you just stop it already? Is it so important that you sit in the same spot on the couch each and every morning?
4. If you ask me something, and I say "no" twenty-four times in a row, do you think there is any chance I will say "yes" the twenty-fifth time you ask?
5. At home, you never ever shut the hell up. So why can't you say "hello" louder than a whisper to my co-worker at the grocery store?
6. You know your name. You know your age. You know many details about dinosaurs. So when the nice lady at the check-out asked "How are you?" why did you go with "I'm a big girl! I go pee in the potty! Poop, too!"
7. Why do you howl and rip your hair from your head until I give in and let you talk on the phone, if you are just going to grin like an idiot and say absolutely nothing (long distance, of course)?
8. Do I look that lonely when I am taking a crap? Must you keep me company the entire time?
9. I do not recall telling you to treat the couch like a trampoline. Who taught you to jump on furniture like that?
10. How do you know when it's your father's turn to sleep in? Does he bribe you to sleep longer on those days? Do you have a calendar somewhere to remind you "Oh, tomorrow is Mummy's day to get up! Must remember to leap out of bed at the crack of dawn!"
11. When will it be my turn to drive you batty?