20,000 Questions

Are those rain clouds? Is that red light for us? Is this song sad? Is today Wednesday? Can we listen to music? Can you change the music? Can I have a drink? Is today school? Is it cold out or hot? Is Pokemon scary? Can I watch it? Can I watch TV?
It's like 8 AM and I've already answered a million questions. I feel like a Jeopardy contestant. "I'd like inane shit a 3 year old asks for a hundred, Alex."
It's like the Army, only of questions "We answer more by 9 AM than most people do all day."
As I write this...
Is that a picture of me? Was I sad? Was I happy? Why is it black and white? Was I at school for that picture? Can I feed Clooney? Is it TV time?
Oh, help me God. How can life be a constant stream of questions? Wait, that was a question. It was a rhetorical device! Give me a break!
Now? Are you done yet? Is Backyardigans on?
I can't take it. It's more than I can bear. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY has this many questions.
I know. Somewhere, my mother is taking me exactly literally, and saying, that is how children learn. I KNOW. But do they have to learn from me?
I mean, apparently, my children are obedient little dream children at their schools. They don't prattle on there with a million questions all day long. Aren't they learning there?
Was that supposed to happen? Are you ready? Can I have more chocolate milk? Is the sky blue or rainy? Is Clooney allowed to chew this? Is E at school? Can I wear my pajamas?
I'm not going to make it. The room is growing darker and darker. I'm losing consciousness.
"I'll take brain numbing parenthood for a thousand, Alex."
Ready for TV? Do you like it when I blow on you? Do you like it when I hit you with this blankie?
I DO NOT KNOW.
Help, I'm in Double Jeopardy.