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You know what I just realized I do to my kids? I explain. I explain a lot. I border on sheer windbaggery, and may even unintentionally waltz into droning. Don't believe me? Ask me about the time that we explained the Canadian political process to a (then) eight-year-old Juniper, including nuances of pink (Lloyd) liberalism and the ruddier shades of orange.
I s'plain. Lots.
I mean, I know why I do it. From the start, I was a why kinda kid. I wasn't interested in the mechanics of what made things work. I wasn't all that worried about how, or who or where, or when. If you could provide me with my why, you'd get my cooperation.No surprise then, to discover that I'm a why adult. I'll do most anything asked of me, if only ta-gawd the asker would just explain the why of it.
I guess that's why me ex's departure was so hard for me to accept, initially. I couldn't get the why of it. The who, where, what, when and how were much less important than the why. I remember sitting in a Target parking lot, placing a long distance cell phone call, simply to say "I just don't understand. Can you tell me why?"
Sadly, there really wasn't a good and satisfactory answer. There may never be. It took me quite some time to come to a place where I realized not everything (or everyone) has a why. Sometimes it (and they) just are. Is. Esque.
However, this doesn't stop me from explaining things to the girls. Why the sun isn't out in the mornings at this time of year. Why they can't have unending bowls of cheerio mix. Why matching clothing isn't the end of the world. Why dinner is taking so long. Why they must go to sleep. Why they must have chores.
I provide them with explanations. More, to be honest, than has been (or ever will be) asked for. But I try to leave no explanatory stone unturned.
Even if it means that I have to derail my own explanation, halfway through an expose on the relative demerits of Bratz dolls, as it's only at that point that I realize I'm careening toward some stones that might be better left unturned ‘til puberty.
Why? Because half an explanation is still better than no explanation. May I be put out to parental pasture if the phrase "because I said so" ever passes my lips.
