The Why Phase

I was so excited about the Why Phase.  Honestly, how much fun would that be?  I’m a fountain of useless knowledge.  I love learning useless knowledge.  I love learning period.  In high school drama, the award I was given was The Most Likely To Know Everything (Or She’ll Find it Out).  In college, I had a roommate that loved to torture me with random years, asking me what happened in that year.  I would go ballistic racking my brain, pulling out facts, until I turned on the computer and listed rulers, wars, and all kinds of facts.

Every parenting book talked about how important the Why Phase was, how it was a sign of intelligence and inquisitiveness.  I worried as Tornado E out grew the months it was suppose to be in.  I wondered if my son actually cared to learn about the world around him.  I wondered if I was raising a day laborer, fast food restaurant cashier or a politician.  I waited and prepared.  I was well prepared for questions like:

Why’s the sky blue?

Why’s the grass green?

Why’s that an “E”?

Why is Papi bald?

Why do we go to church?

Why does Daddy make Daddy noise when he sleeps?

When the Why Phase started, did I get any of those questions?  No.  I got questions like these:

Why do I have to go to bed?

Why am I tired?

Why are you tired?

Why am I whiney?

Why is my bed so high?

Why did you do that?

Why can’t I have candy in my bed?

Why am I hungry for candy right now?

Why can’t I have juice?

Why will it leak?

Why do I have to have water?

Why is Tornado S trying to sleep?

Why can’t I sleep in Tornado S’s bed?

Why will he wake up?

Why can’t I sleep with you?

Why do I have to sleep in my own bed?

Why do I have to go to bed?

Why can’t I stay up?

Why am I tired?

Why do I have to put my underwear on?

Yeah, it’s not cute and inquisitive.  It’s not a sign that my kid is smart, trying to figure out the logic of the world.  It’s not a sign of intelligence.  It’s a sign of hidden rebellion.  It’s a sign of anarchy.  It’s a sign that my kid wants the rules to bend to his understanding.  He’s trying to be subversive.  He’s trying to break down the penis rules through his interpretation of logic.

Why do I have to wipe my bottom?

Why will I get diaper rash?

Why will it hurt?

Why do I have to wear underwear?

Why can’t I go naked?

Why do I have to wear clothes in the car?

Why do I have to wear clothes at Grandma’s and Papi’s house?

Why can’t I play with my penis here?

Why can’t I play with my penis in your room?

Does Daddy play with his penis in your room?

Why are you quiet?

Why didn’t you say anything?

Mommy!  Did you hear me?

Why do I have to put my underwear on?

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Underwear Challenges

We are trying to move on from the naked stage to underwear stage, using mainly training paints.  Refer to penis rules number three and four.  But underwear is having its challenges and not just trying to keep Tornado E in them.

As my parents are in town, they tend to help out around the house.  The other day my mom was helping Tornado E get dressed.  She doesn’t approve of letting Tornado E run around naked because he needs to learn to pull on and off underwear.  Good point and I can’t say anything about having a naked kid because that was me, even in stores.  My mom put Tornado E in his special Mickey underwear and then into shorts.  A few minutes after he was dressed, he was trying to pull down his shorts and underwear.  My mom tried to explain why we wear underwear, but Tornado E just exclaimed, “My penis needs to feel better.”  He stripped his clothes and insisted he needed to put his underwear on backwards.  It was then my mom understood that the underwear was rubbing wrong on his penis and helped him back into his underwear, adjusting it for comfort.  She then said, “I guess you can’t wear clothes if you’re uncomfortable.”

Then yesterday as we walked through the swap meet, my dad noticed Tornado E was grabbing at the crouch of his pants.  Worried that Tornado E may have had one kind of accident or another, he asked Tornado E what was wrong.  Tornado E just squirmed away trying to fix his pants.  My dad grabbed Tornado E and looked down his pants, only to find Tornado E had a wedgie.  My dad adjusted Tornado E’s pants and underwear.  Tornado E exclaimed, “That feels much better!”

Ah the innocence of youth.  The trouble with underwear.  He’s lucky he isn’t a girl.