This is "Why?"

I have figured out the reason for one of the most plaguing periods in toddlerhood that we mothers have to endure. I have learned the impetus behind the "Why?" stage. You know, the stage where every sentence ends with a question mark, the one that comes right before the "Can't stop talking and Mom needs to be looking straight at me the whole time I'm saying anything" stage.

Here is the scoop: I was trying to understand my two year old's toddlerese and figure out what is was she wanted when it dawned on me: We mold them for it. Yes, nearly everything we say to these wee little ones is a question.

"Are you hungry, sleepy, hot, cold . . .?"
"Do you want the ball, book, doll, cup, car, super noisy toy that I'm about to rip the batteries out of . . .?"
"Is your diaper poopey?"
"Do you want to go outside, to see Daddy, to the park . . .?"
"Can Mommy read you a story, sing you a song, give you a cuddle . . .?"

You get the idea. They are bombarded with questions. Questions that they can't always answer. Sound familiar? Some may argue that the "Why?" stage is a child's curiosity at it's peak. Curiosity, schmuriousity. I think it's payback.

So now the damage has been done. The twins are at the verge of speaking clearly. One day soon I will relive the days when my oldest boys where two and three. One would ask, "Why?" and after I gave that child what I thought was a satisfactory answer, the other would pipe up, "How come?" This sometimes followed by another, "Why?" It's acomin' and now I know -- it's my own darn fault.