Why?

There's one question that all parents come to dread: Why?

This one little word has hit our house in a big way lately. Given that Abbey's three-and-a-half now, I had been smugly thinking we'd escaped this phase and that she was just really good at wording her questions in other ways. But that's another parenting lesson: smug thoughts breed revenge.

The question, Why?, is interspersed with other questions, which may sound like some relief from the same word all the time. Not so. These other questions are so random and so unanswerable that they're driving me to distraction. A typical conversation while walking, for example, might go like this:

Her: 'What would the people in that house say if we went into their house?'
Me: 'They might say, 'Hi, what's your name?''
Her: 'What would they say if Taylor [our dog] ate all their food?'
Me: 'Well, I don't think they'd be very happy about that!'
Her: 'But what would they say?'
Me: 'I think they'd say, 'Tell your dog not to eat all our food'.'
Her: 'Why?'
Me: 'Because people don't like it when dogs eat all their food.'
Her: 'Why?'

And so it goes.

I really admire parents who can maintain that level of patience in their tone that I start my day with. But I'm not one of them. By the end of the day, and as the questions become more and more random, the conversations are more like this:

Her: 'What would the policeman say if we had a red car?'
Me: 'I don't think the policeman would care what colour our car is.'
Her: 'No! What would he say?'
Me: *sigh* 'He might say, 'Wow, that's a nice red car you have there'.'
Her: 'Why?'
Me: 'I don't know. I don't know him and I don't really know what he'd say but he might say that. If he cared enough to comment on our car. Okay?'
Her: 'Why?'
Me: *bangs own head against nearest wall, in lieu of desire to bang child's head against said wall*
Her: 'Why are you doing that, Mum, WHY?'

Please, send help. Or chocolate.