What frogs eat

I have learned many things since becoming a parent. I have learned how to feed, swaddle and burp a newborn. I have learned that self-settling is a vital skill to impart upon an infant no matter how painstaking it is for the parents. I have learned that if there are plans in the afternoon, a child will invariably sleep longer than usual. I have learned that just as reliably the same children will cut their naps short if the diary is empty. I have learned how to collapse multiple models of prams with one hand and how to assemble, and disassemble, a travel cot in under a minute. I’ve also come to learn just how much I don’t know. Actually it’s something of a recurring lesson at the moment as I attempt to answer Miss I’s endless stream of questions.

Some, of course, are easy to answer.

“What I having my dinner Mummy?” Ravioli. (At least that’s the answer often enough.) 

“Why you stop driving Mummy?” Because it’s a red light and cars have to stop at red lights.

“Why?” Because that’s the rule.

“Why rules?” Well the rules keep everyone safe. (Best not get bogged down in detail?)

“Why you driving now Mummy?” Because it’s a green light and cars have to drive at green lights.

“Why?” Rules.  

“Why rules?” Are you getting bored now???

Then there are questions which I’m quite comfortable not knowing the answer to.

“Where the postman live?” I’m not sure exactly where his home is but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want us to know. (Although, come to think of it, he quite clearly knows where we live. Again best to avoid details?)

“Where my teacher Anna live?” Same as above.

“Why Daddy a boy Mummy? He just is.

“What you having dinner Mummy?” Whatever our butler prepares.

“Who our butler?” A happy figment of Mummy’s imagination.

“What magination Mummy?” (Schoolgirl error. I walked right into that.) Would you like ravioli for dinner?    

The questions that trouble me though are the ones I think I ought reasonably know the answers to.

“Why the sky blue?” Errr, something to do with light and reflection.

“What frogs eat?” Errrr, lillipads?? (I’m really not sure).

 

“Where the butterflies sleep?” In the trees. (At least I think so??)

“What’s that?” Your shadow.

"What a shadow?" Errr, light and reflection again. Would you like ravioli for dinner?

“Why Lulu crying Mummy? Hmmm...

“Why the trees no leaves?” Well it’s winter and some trees lose their leaves during winter.

“Why?” Well, you see, when it gets cold...would you like a cupcake?

The problem, as I currently see it, is that her questions, and eventually Miss L’s, are only going to get harder. I'm not going to know the answers and ravioli might not always distract them effectively. (Though I imagine cupcakes always will.) I will be able to easily guide them through reading and basic maths. I will be able to talk them through government policy on childcare, explain why their father is a feminist, why I think sport matters and why keeping windows open does not let the heat in. I might never be able to explain why I wasn’t invited to the Royal wedding but I will be able to describe the wedding in fantastic detail. Should they accept it I have plenty of knowledge to impart; from my parenting philosophies to dealing with the dishwasher to massive generalisations on the basis of gender. So there’s a bit I think I can add. But. Notwithstanding my profound wisdom sound knowledge base I fear there is much more that I cannot explain than I can.

My grasp on the intricacies of the animal kingdom is tenuous. At best. I’m not particularly well informed about basic biology or weather patterns. I don’t know how planes fly or cars drive or how electricity works. I know nothing about plumbing or drains or town planning. I can’t build or renovate or even paint. There’s heaps of stuff I just don’t know. So I’m curious; how will our girls overcome the limits of my knowledge?

Of course there are other people who can teach them. Their dad, Mr G, for example is particularly practical and well versed in subjects I am not. Between us we cover some ground but Mr G isn’t always here. So when the questions come through about the Boer war or why towns were settled at the base of hills or why the tv isn’t working, chances are they’ll be stuck with me. And I won’t know the answer. And if it's the tv question Mr G won't know either.

School, of course, will help but that’s at least two years away. I can only imagine how many questions I will field before then and, knowing Miss I, I’m doubtful “Why don’t you wait til you get to school?” will cut it. It’s another reason I think children need as much exposure to a village of people (preferably with differing areas of expertise) as possible. Broaden the net and just hope that when the tricky questions come they’re posed to the right person. On that note does anyone want to volunteer to be a friend on the phone? Just nominate a category of knowledge and I’ll keep you on file. By all means put me on your own file. I'm available for questions on: royalty, childcare and rocky road.