It’s the question that is most asked in our home. Its unrelenting frequency is borderline comical and impending in response to most statements that come out of my mouth. From the simplest observation, or instruction, my son unfailingly asks, “why”.

“Oh, look. It’s snowing out.”

“Why.”

“It’s time to clean up your room.”

“Why.”

“There are three ways to spell there.”

“Why.”

Although the daily barrage of questions can become grating, especially when other aspects of life are “happening”, the inquisitive nature of children amazes me. Their minds are a clean slate that they unapologetically long to fill up. From an early age kids innately recognize how powerful information is, and although we have evolved as humans they are born instinctually understanding that knowledge is the foundation to survival and eventual autonomy. It’s inspiring.

Knowledge is growth and power.

Our children look to us to feed their brain’s voracious appetite. It’s one of our many responsibilities and we’re happy to do it, most of the time. To them we hold the curtain strings. Little by little we tug, revealing the vast panoramic that is the world as we understand it through our own knowledge and experiences.

This is a great responsibility, and as parents sometimes it’s easy to take this position of authority for granted. In the world of adults, the value of why tends to diminish. Many of us resolve to have a good grasp on our lives and are comfortable knowing only what’s important to us. On the surface, our understanding of the world suits us, so we take what filters through our day-to-day at face value and neglect to search out a deeper understanding unless it benefits us.

It is when this neglect for the importance of why seeps into parenting that moms and dads begin selling their kids short.

The other day my son was cleaning up after constructing crafts while I was busy working from home. Walking across the room to his mom I noticed he was carrying the scissors by the handle. Lifting my head, I asked him to turn the scissors and hold them closed by the blades. He asked, “why?”

“Because I said so,” was my thoughtless response.

I failed to recognize that his question was genuine. Why is there a specific way you should carry scissors? How can a simple act be wrong? Why do other people carry scissors differently?

This experience was new to him.

Acknowledging my missed opportunity to parent, I retracted my curt answer and explained the reasoning.

Either intentionally or unintentionally, answers like “because I said so”, “don’t ask why, just do it”, or “it just is” have the potential to impair our children’s desire to ask questions as they grow.

I don’t want my son to simply accept things as they are. I want him to feel comfortable and confident as he searches for answers about his world. And I want him to know that useless information does not exist, although people will tell him that it does.

Not only will I continue to answer the question why, but will commit to asking the same question with my son.

In an age of where technology makes an infinite number of answers accessible at our fingertips, we have no excuse to take knowledge for granted and let it elude our children or us.

As my son grows I will continue to pull those curtain strings with conviction. One day they will reach the end of the track and stop, completely revealing to him the world outside of the window I have helped opened for him. And I will let him know that his view will be greater and more beautiful if he just keeps asking,

“why?”