Lay My Hands On Heaven, And The Sun, And The Moon, And The Stars

My buddy, Rob warned me about four years ago about the "Why Stage" of child raising. "Every answer to a question, every answer to an answer is followed by another question of 'Why?'" he instructed, "It goes like this:
'We have to get in the car, honey.'
'Why?'
'Because we have to go to the store?'
'Why?'
'Because we have no food. Do you want to eat?'
'Why do we eat?'"

Ellie is currently in the "Why Stage". Abbie has been telling me about the 15+ minute inquisitions to and from the baby sitter's this past week. Ellie has perfected this stage and has pushed it to the outer extremes by incorporating it into her bedtime activities.

We were watching television last night and could hear the stomping of her young feet down the stairs.
"Ellie?" I said in a stern voice. "What do you need?"
"Um... I wanted to ask a question... um... What are you watching?"
"We are watching TV, what do you need?" I repeat.
"Um... can you tuck me into bed?"

I got her back into bed, and I threaten her, "Do not get up again. Do you understand?"

"Um... I have a question?" she replies, ignoring my demand.

"What is it?"

"Um..." she starts, her eyes focus upward towards her eyebrows, quickly thinking of something, "Are you going to paint our faces tomorrow?"

"I painted your face for the Super Bowl, baby. I am not going to paint your face tomorrow. Now, do you have any other questions before I leave?"

"Yes." she responded immediately, "Um..." her eyes darted around the bedroom looking for something puzzling. "Are the flowers just Emma's or just mine?" she asked while staring at a vase on a shelf nearby.

"Those flowers are Mommy's. She is sharing them with you and Emma. They are not yours, they are Mommy's." I answer. "Is there anything else?" making sure there was no other reason for her to get up.

"Yes, Um... Are you going to paint your face tomorrow?" she questions with a devilish grin, apparently aware of my answer.

"No, honey. I am not going to paint anyone's face tomorrow. Now, one last question and that's it."

"Ok, Um..." she paused shortly to create the whopper with a beaming smile, "Why is the moon out?"

With all my might I tried to not laugh, but failed miserably. Through snorts and laughter I replied, "Because it is bedtime, you need to go to sleep. Good night."

"Good night," the sweet angelic voice echoed from under the covers.