Questions

Wednesday, 12 October 2011

Back in my pre-father days, I had this idea that, one day, when my kids asked me questions, I would know the answer. I think this stemmed from the incessant blank stares I received from adults when I asked questions that really shouldn’t have befuddled them. Questions like…

Why does the moon change shape?

How come so many plants are green?

Why does it look like wheels are spinning backwards sometimes?

How come the oil on the ground makes rainbow colors?

So, admittedly, I wasn’t surrounded by scientists during my formative years, but I don’t think my questions were that hard. And even if the adults in my life didn’t know the answer, they could have said something like, “Why don’t we go look that up?” Regardless, I promised myself that, one day, my children will look up and ask, “Why is the sky blue?” and I’m gonna tell them.

Well, I’m happy to say that I’ve succeeded in this goal…kind of.

Take today, for example. Owen asked: “What’s the name for a 1,000-sided shape?” I told him: “A myriagon.”

Okay, so don’t feel bad if you’re reading this and thinking, “Geez, I didn’t know that.” The thing is, you have to remember that I’m really good at things that serve no purpose in social or economic endeavors, so knowing the answer to this question is right up my alley. If, on the other hand, Owen had asked me to help him fix his bicycle, I would’ve been totally lost.

I’m getting off the subject here. The problem is, while Owen sure loves to ask questions like the above example dozens of times a day, he also asks questions that are not quite so easy to answer. These include…

1) A repeat of a question he’s already asked 100 times.

The first time Owen asked me to rattle off the names of gods, I thought if was a good question, and I supplied the best answer I could. But now he’s asked that question far too many times. The other day, at dinner, apropos of nothing, he asked the question again – as if it’s his way of firing up the conversation. I just told him I’ve already answered that question.

2) Questions that mistake observation for intimate knowledge.

Sometimes, I comment on the world around me, just to share note-worthy items with people standing nearby. Owen presumes this means I have complete knowledge over the item observed. For example, last time we stopped at the ice cream shop, there were four young girls sitting on the bar stools all eating the same flavor of ice cream. “Hey look,” I said to my son, “They all got strawberry ice cream.” Owen then asked, “Why did they all get strawberry ice cream?” So, for the thousandth time, I said, “I have no idea, Owen, I’m just pointing it out. Why don’t you ask them?”

3) Questions that are impossible to answer.

No, I don’t mean questions that are really really difficult to answer – such as, “Can you explain the relationship between electromagnetism and the strong nuclear force?” – I mean questions that are impossible to answer. These include such gems as…

“Are most kids younger or older than other kids?”

and

“What is the smallest thing in our house not counting really little things?”

I’m sorry, but I just can’t picture a day – regardless of the strides made in scientific advancement – that any parent will be able to coherently answer questions like these.