As Little Z zooms towards turning 4 in less than 2 weeks I can very much already see what the next year is going to bring us. It is mostly going to consist of him questioning everything about his surroundings and correcting us each time we try to distract him with some very made up explanation. It’s started already and it’s like having a mini interrogation each time he opens his mouth to ask what seems like a very innocent sounding question. I think the only thing missing sometimes is the big flashing light in my eyes. I have occasionally been guilty of answering with “Ooh why don’t you ask Daddy?”. This does work, sometimes, but as most of our heart to hearts happen when we’re alone in the car there really is no escape.
Take for instance on one of our drives home:
Little Z: Mummy? Who made the trees?
Ahhh nice easy one…
Me: They grow from little seeds honey, they get all big and tall with lots of water.
Little Z: And who made the seeds?
Me: Well, the seeds come from the trees…
Little Z: But who made the trees??! Me: Ermmm.. Well, it’s like a circle… And..God made the trees.
Sounding satisfied, I could see him pondering something else.
Little Z: Who made the shops?
Me: Lots of people built the shops. They’re called builders.
Little Z: Builders? So God made the trees and people built the shops?
Me: Well….Yes, kind of.
Little Z: Who made the people?
Me: Would you like a Starburst?
After observing his Daddy trimming his beard a few times and whilst rifling through my toiletries bag…
Little Z: Mummy? Do you have a beard?
Feeling a bit horrified..
Me: Errrrmm No? Why?
Little Z: What’s that pink thing? [pointing to my razor].
Me: Ohhhh!!! Well, that’s Daddy’s razor.
Little Z: Shall I give it him back?
Me: Maybe later.
Little Z: Mummy? Why didn’t you take me to your wedding?
Me: Umm..because you weren’t born yet.
Little Z: I wasn’t born yet? Where was I?
Me: You were at nursery that day.
Little Z: I need to go to your wedding.
Me: Ok we’ll go tomorrow?
Little Z: Ok!
So yes, I do believe the 4s is going to be a very interesting year.