My Life in 100 Songs: A Million and One Questions by Jay Z

Cydney can’t help herself…

She’s no longer a baby nor a toddler. My four year old is becoming a little kid. It’s kind of bittersweet because I miss the infantile days; but I love the little person she’s becoming.

While her hair is getting longer, her features more defined, and taller; it’s her personality that has become the most expansive. Unfortunately, this means she’s in that phase where she asks questions until I want to jump out of the window.

Yes, I am aware that one should encourage this. Questioning everything is how children absorb information. But shit, I count down the hours until bedtime.

“What’s the meaning of bird?”
“Are birds dirty?”
“What’s a dirty bird?”
“What letter does bird begins with a b?”
“How do you spell your name? C-h-a-d?”
“Why is water wet, daddy?”
“Do you like puddles?”
“Do dirty birds like puddles?”
“Do dirty birds take baths?”

Now Cydney being Cydney, if I don’t answer her question she will ask repeatedly until I answer her or just yell in frustration “Alright!” In my head I say “Fuck!” right after.

The question I detest the most is “Why?” I hate that question because anything you answer will be followed with another why. Sometimes I just answer “Tell them that it’s human nature” and begin to ignore.

Cydney means well. I tell myself this is a good thing. Cydney is a really smart kid. I do want her to question everything. I just don’t want them to be asked to me all day every damn day.

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