Fielding Questions

Kidlets ask approximately three zillion questions a day, and that's a fairly conservative estimate. After ten years of observing kidlets in action, I am fairly confident that they (the questions not the kidlets) can be broken down into several distinct types.

In the first type of question, you do not know the answer. This might be because you had to learn it for school and promptly forgot it after the test ("What type of clouds are those, Mommy?"), something you never knew ("Is liquid soap poisonous? My little brother was just drinking it from the container."), or something that you just never got around to figuring out yourself ("Why do some people say Al Gore invented the Internet?"). My favorite method of dealing with that question depends on the level of urgency. For some questions, I help them come up with an answer. ("I don't know what type of clouds those are. Let's take a picture and go look for ones like that online.") Others involve quickly calling someone to find out the answer.  ("Bring your brother and his soapy mouth out here while I call Poison Control and find out.") Sometimes, I give a non-answer that at least distracts the kidlets from the question at hand and aims for a subject I know a little bit more about. ("For the same reason they say global warming isn't real.")

This leads us to the second type of question: You do know the answer, but really, really do not want to answer it. ("Mommy, where do babies come from?") Distraction is the key if an open, honest answer is not possible at that moment. ("We had you in the hospital. Don't you remember seeing the pictures?") Postponing the inevitable is sometimes a lifesaving option. ("That's a very good question, but I do not have time to answer it right now. We will talk about it later.") Worst case scenario, there's always the option to inundate them with a level of details so stunningly overwhelming that the kidlet will get bored and wander off before you even begin to actually scratch the surface of their question. ("Well, first you have some sort of courtship ritual between two adults who may or may not find each other initially attractive...") Invariably, this type of question is always asked at top volume in the middle of a crowded location, where every single other head whips around immediately to watch you squirm. Expect to see plenty of knowing smirks from other parents in the area.

The third type of question is where you know the answer, but it is dependant on something else. ("Can I go to Susie's house?") I find that answering these types of questions with more questions is the way to go. This is especially the case when it comes to kidlets asking to go somewhere. ("Are her parents home? Is anyone else going to be there?  Did you finish your homework yet? Is this your not-so-subtle method of asking me for a ride?") Until the requisite questions are answered, your final answer is put on hold. At least you're off the hook until your kidlet coughs up some appropriate answers!

The next type of question is where you do know the answer, and are willing to answer without any unnecessary drama. ("What time is Dad coming home from work today?" "What did you make me for lunch?" "What are we having for dinner?") No stalling is required, no questions are thrown back at the questioning kidlet, and everyone moves on with life. ("In fifteen minutes." "The same thing I made you yesterday." "Pasta, meatloaf, and green beans.")

The fifth and final type of question probably should not even count as a question. It is when you could not follow the convoluted train of thought that led to what the question actually is, but the kidlet is staring up at you expectantly as if you need to give an answer immediately. ("Sheila told me that she is going to ride the roller coaster later, but blue is her favorite color, and Eddie thinks that horses are cool. So can I?")  I noticed that I have a tendency to stare blankly at the inquiring kidlets, then ask them point-blank what exactly they want me to answer. ("I want to know if I can, too.") When that doesn't work, I simply tell the kidlet that unless they can ask me a question I understand, I cannot answer them. Now that my kidlets are all over four, this works a bit easier. Please note the words "a bit." Theoretically, they can all figure out what they are trying to ask and rephrase the question. ("Sheila and Eddie want me to go ride on the merry-go-round with them. Can I go?") Once a coherent question is asked, then it once again falls into one of the four aforementioned categories, and will be answered, or not, as necessary. If they can't come up with a semi-coherent question, then we are all frustrated and confused, but at least those times are few and far between.

The good news is that today is a Sunday, and in the amount of time I just spent writing about kidlets and their types of questions, my husband was stuck fielding answers to all of our kidlets' zillions of them. I love weekends.