Why?

Aside from the word "dongle" (I mean, why would you call it that?) there's no funnier aspect of the English language than the phrase "Family Planning." You might as well say you're planning for a typhoon to hit your house, keep you awake for months on end, leave "chocolate kisses" on your white sofa and occasionally be sick in the back of the telly.

I say this because whatever you do with children, there will unforeseen results. For instance, when I didn't shave this morning I didn't expect the Girl to try to lick the stubble off my face. Which is what she's currently doing.

The Boy was two years old when the Girl was born. He'd been toilet trained for a month. So we had four blessed poo free weeks before the Girl was born and, frankly, ruined everything. I had just got used to not tripping over stair guards, no longer melting my fingers on the bottle steriliser and, most importantly, not sitting at my desk wondering why I could smell poo (always check the back of your wrist.) Suddenly it was back to square one.

The say that women forget the pain of child birth so they can do it again. The same is true of the early days of child rearing. You forget the sleepless nights, burping, being liberally coated in vomit (or as happened once, getting double teamed by children one evening when both of them up chucked on me within the space of ten minutes. And yes, I'd got changed in between.) Included in this is the appearance of the most frustrating word in your child's new vocabulary.

"Why am I drinking orange juice?"

"Because you asked for orange juice."

"Why did I ask for orange juice?"

Inquisitive minds my arse, the little buggers are on a wind up. Sometimes it's a genuine question;

"You know the baby Jesus? Why did she die?"

Sometimes they're awkward;

"Why did mummy have me in her tummy?"

Or make you regret your answer;

"Why did daddy use his love rocket to put me in your tummy?"

Some define modern society;

"Why is that man only using one finger to wave at you?"

Or show their innocence;

"Why did you say 'ship'?"

And occasionally threaten the whole of the space-time continuum;

"Why do I keep saying 'why'?"

Going through it once was teeth-grindingly wearing enough. However the second time round becomes a form of water torture. I'm not exaggerating this point as proven by the Boy recently complaining; "If the Girl says 'why' again I'm going to poo in her bath water." This is the zenith of retribution as far as the Boy is concerned. The Girl has done this two him three times ("GET ME OUT!!!") the best of which was as I was lifting him into the bath. I hadn't noticed, and he still hasn't forgiven me for dunking him into his sister's best work.

I haven't asked him why.