Why?

So, six days until mommy comes home. The light at the end of the tunnel is growing brighter.

I have done my best to keep up with the vacuuming, laundry and general cleaning. But with two kids, a cat and a dog, I will have to put in a little extra effort this week to create the illusion of cleanliness upon her arrival.

It has also been a goal/tradition to attempt to complete at least one project in her absence and this time it's the shower.

Ever since we moved in, mommy's been unhappy with the plastic folding doors on the shower. She'd prefer a shower curtain. Fair enough. The doors make it difficult to bathe the boys as they don't fold out of the way. Fully folded, they take up about a quarter of the space on each side of the tub, leaving only half the space to access the children.

So, with Sonwun in tow, and Sontoo playing happily on his own, I attacked the problem. Sonwun was eager to help and eager to learn. In fact, for the past month or so, he has been "eager to learn" about everything under the freakin' sun. It's a phase, they tell me; the "why?" phase.

For each and every one of my actions, from dawn to dusk, there is a question. What are you doing daddy? What is that daddy? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? What colour is the mirror? What is the sound of one hand clapping? Daddy, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it . . .

You get the idea.

And as if this preschool-inspired PHD test was not enough, each answer I provide is now followed up with a "why?" So it's not just a multiple choice test, the professor wants essay answers. I hated those exams.

In any case, back to the bathroom.

"What are you doing daddy?"

"I'm taking off the shower doors."

"Why are you taking the shower doors off?"

"Because your mommy doesn't like them."

"Why doesn't mommy like them."

"Because they make it hard to bath you guys."

"Why does it make it hard?"

"Because they're in the way and you guys might bump your heads on them."

"Why would we bump our heads?"

"Because the doors are in the way."

"Why are the doors in the way?"

And on and on it goes. It's not long before I begin to notice the signs that he isn't really paying attention to the questions, or the answers. He's just inserting the word "why" in the second half of my answers and repeating. At the same time, he's trying to tie all of the bathroom drawers together with hair ties.

And so, in an effort to end the questions, save some hair ties and make Sonwun feel part of the process, I hand him a spare screwdriver and invite him to help.

"What's this daddy?

"It's a screwdriver."

"What's it for?"

"It's for putting in screws and taking screws out."

"What are screws?"

"They are these things here (employing a visual aid) and we need to take them out so that the shower doors will come off."

"Can I help?"

"Yes, why don't you start on the ones on that side and I'll work on these over here."

This buys me about 30 seconds of work before the questions start again.

And so, while I work, I answer every possible question about tools, showers, shower curtains, shower curtain rods, screwdrivers, screws, screwing, unscrewing and bath mats.

At which point, Sonwun loses interest in "helping" and decides he'd rather wander about the bathroom with "his" screwdriver singing, and I quote, "I love to screw, I love to screw, I love to screw."

I did my best to avoid laughing. And it wasn't too difficult, because all I had to do was imagine where this will come back to haunt me; checkout line at the grocery store, playgroup, during a visit from friends, during a visit to the wife's detachment surrounded by police officers.

But I digress.

I don't ever want my boys to stop asking "why?" It's the only way to learn, the only way to challenge what you've learned and to challenge those that are teaching you, daddy included. It's the only way to gather information that will help them make decisions, big and small, for the rest of their lives.

When evolution is presented as fact, I want them to ask why. When they're offered drugs, I want them to ask why. When they are tempted to shoplift, I want them to ask why? When they're invited to church, I want them to ask why? When a preacher tells them their daddy is going to hell, I want them to ask why? And hopefully, by that time, they will have asked why enough times to have put together a pretty decent database of information that will enable them to make solid decisions.

As for right now, as I said, mommy's home in six days. And that, my friends, will provide my one of my favourite answers to most of Sonwun's questions: "I think your mother knows that one. Why not ask her?"