We humans have a knack for creating myths around things that we fear and also don’t understand (kids). I thought that a “why”-spouting child was a myth. Or a punchline. You’ve seen it: the adorable tousled child asking “why” over and over again until the parents run out of answers and want to scream. “That doesn’t happen,” I thought naively, thinking that the “why child” was a running gag, like how all women like shoes (I don’t) or how men love blowjobs (this one is probably correct). Behind this stereotype, I see a writing room full of dudes (in my mind, they’re all smoking cigarettes and wearing pinstriped suits with slicked-back hair). These dudes are in their 20’s and not a one of them has kids, but they have to write a comedy scene with a little kid. Lead writer (probably named Keith) pitches the following:

“So, then Little Barry comes in and finds his dad gluing the Dalmatian statue he accidentally smashed with his new golf club. Little Barry says ‘Whatcha doin’, dad?’ And Marvin says, ‘I’m gluing the statue.’ And Little Barry says ‘Why?’ And Marvin says, ‘Because I broke it.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because I was playing in the house.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because I’m an idiot, son.’ ‘Why?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘Why?’ ‘I just don’t know.’ ‘Why?’ And so on until Marvin starts weeping and saying “Oh, God, what does your mother see in me?” Then we follow up with the part where Marvin tried to convince his wife Valerie that the Dalmatian statue always had one ear and no nose. How about THAT?”

I thought that the “why?” stage was a myth, a musty trope that hackneyed writers trotted out to get a laugh. I had no idea that kids actually did this. UNTIL NOW

*cue ominous music*

Boychild has hit the Why’s hard and fast, causing me and his dad much consternation. Have you ever tried to explain comedy to an almost-four-year-old? It’s bloody hard! My well-meaning mother in law graced us with several Garfield comics from Husband’s childhood and Boychild really latched onto them. God knows why. I never thought Garfield was particularly funny, and to my modern eyes, most of the humor of Garfield (scant though it is) rests on fat shaming the poor kitty.

Anyhow, Garfield has become part of the reading rotation (or at least they did til we hid them) and I cannot tell you how difficult it was for Boychild to understand the jokes. Why does Garfield hate Mondays? Because Mondays are when we have to go back to work. Why? Because the weekend is over. Why? Because most people work a five day week. Why? I’m not sure. I think it has something to do with Christianity? Why? Because on the Sabbath we rest? Why? Because God said so. Why? Because even God had to take a break at some point. What’s God? Good question. But really, why does Garfield hate Mondays? He doesn’t have a job. He doesn’t do shit. Husband and I have been asking ourselves these types of questions as well. What is lasagna? Can cats actually eat lasagna? I had a cat who ate Cheez-Its, but I feel like lasagna is still a stretch. 

On the plus side, we’ve done a deep dive into epistemology. How do we know what we know? Husband and I actually know a lot. For example:
Q: Why does my arm float? My A: because it’s made of meat.

or

Q: Why does Lolli-cat have whiskers? My A: So she can sting and subdue her prey.
Q: Why? A: Because that’s how she eats in the wild.
Q: Why? A: Because in the wild, cats use the venom stored in their tails to kill their food. There is no canned food in the wild, son.

or

Q: What animals eat people? A: Um, bears? No, not bears. Uh, tigers, and sharks? Maybe a wolf. Oh, lions, yeah for sure. And squirrels.

I’m a great mom. Happy holidays, everyone!

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