Three-year-olds, like our precious little Russian-Navajo
grandson, Danil, ask WHY a gazillion times a day.
Pop says, “I love talking to you on the phone.” Danil says, “Why?”
Pop says, “I love talking to you on the phone.” Danil says, “Why?”
Pop says, “Because I love you.” Danil says, “Why?”
Pop says, “Because you’re a sweet boy.” Danil
says, “Why?”
And on and on. You get the picture.
I, too have lots of WHYs, but mine are a bit different and
much more important . . . to me, but probably not to Danil.
Here are some of my WHYs:
Why can’t I get up the nerve to really retire?
Why can’t we have enough money to just take a
trip to see a friend on a whim?
Why won’t my friend (?) tell me why she and her
husband REALLY left our church?
Why won’t the same friend still be friends with
me even though they don’t attend our church anymore?
Why am I not a good writer?
Why don’t I take up where I left off with
cross-stitching?
Why do I hate so much to clean the oven?
Why won’t HMH hurry up and give my Cuz a job?
Why don’t people realize that if they don’t put
personal info on Facebook that no one will know their personal stuff?
And on and on. You get the picture.
2 comments:
The "why" game can go on almost forever, can't it? So fun to ask sometimes, not always fun or easy to come up with the answers.
I LOVE this one. Lots of your questions are my questions too. Do you think we'll ever figure out most--or some--of the answers?
Post a Comment