Questions

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Little Man has started with questions. Why do we sleep at night, Mama? Where is the puppy dog going? How do we get to the store? When does Santa come? Who's that? When does Grandma come? I'm reminded of the scene from Uncle Buck between John Candy and Macaulay Culkin when the little boy is asking rapid-fire questions. It can be both entertaining and exasperating at the same time. This is how he learns and gains information about his world. And my responsibility as his parent is to give him accurate and truthful information at his level.

Little Man: Mama, how did a baby get in Allison's tummy?
Me: God put it there.
Little Man: Can we have ice cream?

All his questioning has me questioning if I still question things. Oh sure, there's the reaction to whatever is on the news, "What was he thinking?" or "Why would they do something so stupid?" Most of the questions that get raised on the news or through social media I already have an answer to, or at the very least a formed opinion. I know what the guy was thinking and why they did something stupid. Those are reactions, not real questions. A real question is when you are genuinely seeking an answer, a fact, a truth.

I know why the sky is blue and the grass is green. I know the earth is round and the moon is not made of cheese. Those are easy questions to answer. And I'm not talking about questions like "What are your plans for this weekend?" That's schedule coordination. But a question, a real question, is more like, "What is my purpose for being on this earth? What is my place?" I think to some degree those questions we always ask. And perhaps, the answers change depending on our stage in life.

For now, my questions will be, "How do I make this scene better?" and, "What does this character want?" or "Why would this character do that?" It's still revision time and I need to get my novel put back into shape and FINALLY get it done.