“Why is the sky blue?”
“Why is the grass green?”
“Why is my poopy brown?”
“Why are you driving, Mommy?”
“Why are sandwiches yummy?”
“Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”
But let us be honest: at age two, barraging someone with questions looked cute. At age twenty, however, people will look at you like the sordid version of Inspector gadget’s lost son. No one these days likes to be barraged with questions ranging from the trivial, banal, and mundane, to the downright private and personal. Asking questions today has become a sort of unwritten luxury: it is not your business to know, if they want you to know. You can’t deny that truth, you can’t let it go.
And for quite some time, I have fallen victim to the trap of asking questions.