My dear Mr. Buttersworth has still not learned - after six loooong years - one of the central tenets of parenting.
Never. EVER. In a million years, even if you are DYING OF CURIOSITY...
Ask those little heathens we call children why they did something.
Especially if you are fairly certain that the answer will:
1. Make absolutely NO SENSE.
2. In NO WAY excuse whatever the heck they just did.
3. Involve convoluted reasoning garaunteed to drive you UP THE WALL.
4. Or contain any version of shoulder shrugging, "I dunno," or "I just wasn't thinking."
Now, when I point out (frequently) that asking them why is not a good idea, Mr. Buttersworth says:
"But I want them to think about why, so that maybe they'll actually think about whether or not it is a good idea."
I hate to break it to him - and to the world at large - but it's not working.
And, I'll admit, I have to work hard not to ask.
Sometimes I stand there in absolute and total disbelief that what I just witnessed actually occurred.
So I shake my head, bite my tongue until the urge to ask why has passed, and then I deal with the matter at hand.
If there was hitting, kicking, spitting, etc... Deal with that.
If the issue is Diva hiding toys in her underwear....Deal with that.
If crayons, markers, or paint have marked my walls....Grow horns, claws, and a tail and terrorize them.
But...I never ask why. That is my secret to staying (mostly) sane.