If you were to ask me some of Sam’s favorite things, I could probably take a pretty good guess at most of them. Favorite show? Curious George. Favorite movie? Cars. Favorite desert? Fudgecicles. Favorite restaurant? That Italian place down the road that has the rope lights all over the ceilings because that’s soooooo pretty! I also know, beyond a doubt, her favorite letter: “Y.” Because she says it. A lot. A whole lot.
She also asks other questions, too. One day this week Geralyn decided to take notes on all the inquiries Sam asked, and while a comprehensive study would take a team of graduate students and a several governmental grants, she did do a pretty good job of taking a nice sample:
- What does “show some restraint” mean?
- When are you going to buy me my own “Foster’s [Home for Imaginary Friends]” DVD?
- Can I have a cheese sandwich?
- Can I have a piece of cheese on the side with my cheese sandwich?
- What’s in bread?
- What’s in cats?
- What’s in cars?
- What’s in houses?
- What’s in people?
- What’s in forks?
- What does “high tech” mean?
- What’s a murloc?
- Will it be nighttime all day?
- Why does it change from night to morning?
- What’s a “boob shot?”
- Where’s the cat?
- Do bad people kill us?
That last one was particularly vexing since I wasn’t quite sure how to answer it. Anyone who would kill us is certainly a bad person (we don’t usually go around pushing the self defense issue), but there are certainly bad people who don’t take things to that particular extreme. So some bad people kill us, but not all. I started to draw a Venn diagram to help Sam understand this, but then she moved on to five new questions.
Still, as irritating as it can be (especially the tried and true “Why?” after every declarative statement) I’m glad she’s asking questions. That’s a good practice. And I try to give her the best, most honest answer I can and not just say “because, that’s how it is”, though man it’s tough sometimes. Why do thing get cold when you put them in the freezer? Uh… Why is water clear? Um… Why did the cat hiss at me? Er… Well, I look forward to her Pulitzer prize-winning, investigative journalism piece entitled “What’s Inside of Forks: The Shocking Truth“
(By the way, the answer is, as I always tell her, “more fork.”)
Mandy isn’t asking many questions these days, but she is making her will known. She can sit up now on her own, which is cool even if she still momentarily forgets that she is, in fact, sitting up and arches her back suddenly, which sends her skull crashing to the floor. The other night I sat her down in front of a box full of blocks and she just sat there, picking up block after block and inspecting them before tossing them aside.
In fact, this is her new favorite thing in the world: discarding things. Essentially every object in the world has the sole purpose of being picked up, peered at briefly, then cast to the floor. This toy? It belongs on the floor. This spoon? It goes on the floor, too. Blanket? Floor. Sippy cup? Oh, you better believe that goes on the floor. Cup full of mashed peas? If I can get my hands on it, I think you know where it’s going. GIVE IT TO ME.
The bright side is that Sam seems to enjoy scurrying to pick up the things that Mandy throws aside, which leads to a kind of perpetual child motion machine. At least it lets Ger and I eat our dinners in peace.