So. Many. Questions.

We've hit the big asking-questions phase. Or maybe just the first big asking-questions phase, because she hasn't even started to use the word "why" yet. Even without the ability to spin every conversation into an endless recursive chain of whys, it's still questions, questions, questions, all day long.

"'It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring...' where is the man?"

I thought that one was problematic enough, but it was nothing compared to the time today that she started interrogating me about a different song: "Where is the crawdad hole? ...What is a crawdad? ...Can we go fishing in the crawdad hole today? Will Papa go fishing in the crawdad hole too?"

"What is a vaccine? What is a germ? What is a temperature? What is a peanut? What is a Girl Scout?" What, indeed. I like language and I like supporting learning, but this is starting to wear on me a bit.

I had the idea that I would try keeping one day's record of the questions she asked. It would certainly be a good record of this time in her life. So this morning when I came downstairs (after hearing her pepper Michael with a long series of questions while I checked my e-mail) I got out my yellow legal pad.

I gave up after one hour, when there were already fifty-seven questions jotted down on the pad. Fifty-seven. In one hour.

( remember to give your response in the form of a question. )