She woke us in the middle of the night last night. It was a single cry. She had cried out, “Why?” We’d hoped
we weren’t rearing an existentialist. Although she did only cry it out once and then effortlessly fell back into slumber.
Like all of our little species we process stuff at night. Havana hit the ‘why’ stage some time back. It’s not a word that is simply used to express innocent childhood curiosity. It’s also an abbreviation of “why the hell should I do something just because you tell me and just because you’re my parents.” The abbreviated version saves energy, allowing for greater frequency of use. Karen and I, in response, have not yet reduced ourselves to her level by blocking her with the parental monosyllabic expedient, “because.” Possibly, a more worn out, drained, future version of ourselves will succumb to this.
