Little Missy P has entered a new stage. One that I arrogantly thought she would never go through. Which is why I smugly bought this shirt, like 4 months ago.
Ya. Cute at the time. Now? Not so much.
Why are my jeans blue? Why is my bedroom upstairs? Why can't I take these toys away from my sister? Why do I have to poop? Why is milk cold? Why are there pages in my book? Why do I always have to eat?
Today..."Why does my shirt say WHY WHY WHY?"
I've been patient. I've explained things thoroughly and as best as my educated self can (even though I'm not educated in biology, I think my explanation of why one must poop was pretty good.) But this glazed, distant look comes over her face about 10 seconds after I start talking. Not good.
So in one of my (many) moments of weakness this past weekend, I begged her to Please.Stop.Asking.Why. For a few minutes, PLEASE!
Her response? "How come?"
Shoot me now.
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