Don't Ask Too Many Questions

One of these days, I'm going to count how many questions I get asked.  I would probably lose count by noon.

Some questions you would expect:  "Can I have breakfast?"  "Can I have chips for breakfast?"  "Can you tell Josie to stop looking at me?"  "What does gynecological exam mean?"
You know, the mundane questions you normally get from your children.

Then, there's the questions that you really wish they wouldn't ask:  "Are you going potty?"  "Why does your tummy look like that?"  "Why is that man so short?"  "Why does that woman look like a man?"

Then. Then there's the ones that drive me nuts: "Do you know this song?"  "Who was that on the phone?"  "Who is that present for?"  "Why are we buying that kind of cheese?"
These questions bother me more because I don't want to have to explain why I'm singing along to the radio.  I just want to sing!  I don't want to tell them who was on the phone.  The present is for someone they don't even know.  We are buying this kind of cheese because I want to. 

When you become a parent, you do give up things.  The privilege to do something without answering a million questions is one of them.   There have been times I've wanted to say "I'm going to fart now.  I just thought I would tell you all before hand so there will be no questions about it." 

But, I think the irony would be lost on them.