Charlotte has a bit of a reputation for being the kid who asks a lot of questions. For several years now, the parents of her friends have commented, after playdates, after birthday parties, after outings, that she asks a lot of questions. Her nursery school and kindergarten teachers have made the same remarks. I remember a conversation with one of her nursery school teachers on this topic when I was reassured, in the way that parents sometimes need to be reassured about their children's peculiarities: don't worry – it will serve her well when she is doing her PhD. And she was right. Asking lots of questions is a great character trait to have. At least, I think so. Because she comes by it honestly. Put me in just about any new situation and I will ask questions constantly and every single detail I can think of. It's a strange sense of entitlement we have. An entitlement that our curiosity should be satiated. Lately, I've started answering her questions with questions. Dad, why did the moving truck park in the drive and stick out in the street? Why do you think it is sticking out in the street? Dad, why didn't this family shovel the sidewalk in front of their house? Why do you think they didn't shovel he sidewalk in front of their house? Dad, why do you always pack me vegetables for my snack? Why do you think I pack you vegetables for your snack? So far, it's working but sooner or later she is going to catch on.
Anyway – tonight, during bedtime, she asked one her best questions ever: mom, why did Justin Bieber's parents name him Justin Bieber?
3 Ginger Snaps 