Right back at the beginning of June I was tagged in a Meme called ‘Why?’. The idea, as I understand it, is a kind of parents’ revenge. I am guessing that some poor beleaguered blogging parent, under siege by some super-inquisitive and persistent child armed with the word ‘Why?’, decided to throw a few ‘Whys?’ back into the mix to see where it got them.
Before I crack on I would like to make a little mention of the lovely blogger who tagged me in the WhyFest. jbmumofone is one of that fabulous friendly brand of blogger who always make you feel welcome. I got to know her a little bit better when we were both involved in the Arsefoolery that was Blogging from A-Z in April. The only other thing that I should mention is that she does a great line in odes to beverages. Here’s one.
![whattowhy350](https://bibsey.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/whattowhy350.jpg)
Bibsey ponders the transition from 'What?' to 'Why?' Someone should tell her that the answer is rarely found at the bottom of a glass.
My child has not really reached ‘Why?’ yet. She is still very much enjoying the snug fit that is afforded her by such words and phrases as:
“Whatchoodoin?”
“What’s that noisy, Mummy?”
“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn-o!”
“MINES!”
“I need it”
She wears them well.
Nevertheless, I am game for this Meme. So, here are my ‘Whys?’. Let’s run ‘em up the flag pole and see if the cat licks them.*
- Why do you fight sleep at naptime when you are quite clearly at the end of your sweet little rope baby girl?
- Why can you not just sit in your cot and read your lovely books for the time in between when you wake up and when I can face dragging my old carcass out of bed?
- Why do you insist on eating your cereal with your hands? If that is what God had intended he would not have given us the hands to build spoons. Obv.
- Why do we have to go through the same charade every morning: you pull me out of bed with the promise of breakfast then refuse to go down the stairs, preferring instead to sit at the top, until I go downstairs at which point you cry and insist that I return to carry you down. You then refuse to open the shutters, but don’t allow me to open them. We then have tears when I either open the shutters or put on the light. Next we move on to the dance that is choice of cereal and attitude to milk: will I, won’t I? WHY?
- Why is it that your answer to everything Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn-o?
- Why do you think that I want your bogies? I’ve got my own.
- Why are you so impossibly gorgeous, even when you are having the screaming habdabs? Even when I am angry? Even when you have done a big old poo in your nappy and decide to take it off yourself?
Oh and one more question. WHEN will I be allowed to go for a poo on my own? Erm, sorry, ‘When?’ is clearly another post.
And now to tag y’all Older Mum (in a Muddle), Asturian Diary and Mañana Mama. The rules apparently say 5 but I say 3 because it’s the magic number and De La Soul told me to.
Oh, and here is a fab clip of Norah Jones and Elmo that someone reminded me of recently. It’s all about Why.