Both of my kids are very curious, they both ask lots of questions.  Moriah asks lots of different questions, pretty much everything that comes out of her mouth is a question.  It’s tiring, but only because we actually answer her questions.  This has the potential to lead to a lengthy conversation full of more questions.  Noah also asks lots of questions.  But he asks the same questions over and over and over again.  It isn’t that he doesn’t remember, cause when prompted he can answer the questions without fail.  He’s just bored and wondering when the fun people are going to come home. Here is a small sample of what happens on a given day.

6:45 am–He wakes up

7:00 am–He sees daddy leave for work

7:15 am–He asks, “Mommy, where’s daddy?”

7:45 am– we drop Moriah off at school

8:30 am–He asks, “When are we gonna get, Riah?”

8:45 am “What’s for supper?”  I answer, then he repeats what I said.

9:00 am I’m bored.  When are we gonna get Moriah.

9:15 am Whatcha makin for supper, mom?

9:30 am What’s for lunch?

10:00  Where’s daddy?

Where is daddy, Noah?

At work.

10:30  Mom! When we gonna get Riah?! Cause my tummy hurts.

10:45  What’s for supper?

And on it goes.  I know that if we had more of a schedule, he would have markers for when things were going to occur.  But I have this nagging fault.  Anytime something changes that effects what my routine is, I’m thrown off and it takes a month or so to find a new routine that works.  And because my husband and I are who we are there is a “major” change about every two months.   As much as I have grown to cry out for predictability, I despise routine.  I have no idea why, cause I’m so much happier with a schedule. I know that I and my children need a routine that is a little more guided and purposeful, I know that we would all function so much better with such a thing.  BUT that fault of mine discourages me from even starting.  I never said I was a logical being.  In fact I’ve been told that I am quite illogical.  It’s a gift.  So, Noah and I are still bored, but this vortex of “winging it” is sure to leave us there. Vicious, I tell you.  Vicious.