It’s a perfectly nice summer morning in Texas; a balmy 94 degrees outside at 8am. The kids are eating breakfast. I decide to make a pot of foffee. As I’m filling the carafe with water and scooping the grounds into the filter the questions begin…
Max: Hey Mama, what are you doing?
Me: I’m making some coffee.
Max: Are you making coffee?
Mason: You are making foffee, Mama?
Me: Yes, I am.
Max: Are you?
Mason: You are?!
Max: Is that coffee?
Me: (deep breath)…Yes…
Mason: What is that?
Me: It’s coffee.
Mason: It is?!
Max: IS it?
Me: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?! I WANT A LAWYER!!!
This little scenario is played out multiple times each day. In fact, you could easily substitute words like: laundry, toast, vacuum or slightly-dirty-vodka-martini in the dialogue above and you’d have a pretty accurate idea of the conversations I have throughout the day. This, my friends, is life with the Preschool Gestapo. You think you’re doing good. Living a peaceful, if not entirely quiet life. Just minding your own business when suddenly you find yourself in the middle of an interrogation so expertly executed the CIA should be taking notes. Hell, maybe they are. In which case I think I’m owed some sort of monetary compensation. It takes a lot of organic, free range whatever-the-fuck to fuel genius like this.
You always hear about how kids are so inquisitive, driving their parents crazy with all their questions. I remember babysitting for kids who were going through that “why” phase.
Why is the grass green? Why do cats sleep so much? Why the hell do people listen to Nicki Minaj?
I don’t know kids. The world is an effed up place. I’m just here to collect $25 from your parents. Do you have any chips?
See, nothing to it! Surely I could field a few questions from my own amazing, beautiful, brilliant children one day. As it turns out, I can! I can absolutely answer a few questions. I can even answer several questions…if they’re spread out over a reasonable amount of time, like oh say…a week or so. But that’s not really how kids roll. They’re not really into “subtlety” or “moderation”. However they are very thorough so bonus points for that, I guess.
I have a theory that you could get a confession out of even the most hardened criminal if you sent preschoolers to conduct the questioning. I’m pretty sure the ideal set-up would be one 4 year-old and two 3 year-olds. The four year-old would have a bigger vocabulary and an additional year of question asking experience under their belt while the three year-olds would supply the brutally endless repetition. It would be really cost-effective too. I’m thinking it would take about seven minutes -tops- to get the suspects to break and the kids could easily be paid in cupcakes and stickers.