Both of my children are questioners. They start the first thing in the morning and don’t let up until they go to sleep. Both, in fact, have been known to lie in bed and ask many a question to themselves, their stuffies, the air… all overheard on the monitor long after we have left them for sleep. They know that these questions are not going to be answered right then, but feel the need to get them out anyways. We frequently get asked the questions in person the next morning. I love that they are both so curious, and hope that I never tire of answering their questions.

Woo is a master questioner. He has never asked just “why”. Since he started talking, the questions have been very specific, pointed, and non-stop. Our wonderful daycare provider frequently tells me that he asks more questions than the other four children combined! This may be because the others can’t get a word in edgewise, but any way you look at it, there are a tonne of questions.

Our answers frequently always lead to more questions, and more questions, and the discussions either end with me turning the question back on him (ie “why do you think that is happening”) or promising to go ask the internet what the answer to that question is. I do have to go to the internet a lot to find out the right answers for him, which makes me think that school will be a learning experience for us all.

Tonight at dinner Woo asked us if it was less dangerous to get smoke only in your ears. We both sat in silence for a few minutes, not sure where this was coming or going, and then talked about how it would likely be less dangerous to get smoke in your ears, that it would be hard to only get smoke in your ears, and that the fact that smoke was getting in your ears meant you were close to fire, so eyes/nose/mouth would be in danger too. He didn’t seem satisfied with our answers, but dropped the line of questions.

It was my turn to put Woo to bed tonight, and he was very deliberate in his choice for books, one of his favourite Sesame Street books. He chose this book because we clearly had not answered his questions at supper, and he knew that the story would let me see where he was coming from. I didn’t know that yet. I started reading, but didn’t think anything of his book choice, or determination to have it read, until I saw this picture: