No Questions

I had one of those days. Not a bad day, really, but just hectic – full of little nuisances that filled in the gaps between responsibilities. The gaps that allow me luxuries like eating, breathing, and peeing. By the time I got home, I wasn't going to be of much use to anyone. I couldn't bring myself to nag Clara about her homework. I didn't want to cook or clean or fold anything. And I couldn't deal with questions. Trevor's questions, I must say, are truly awesome. He blows my mind on a regular basis. He really thinks. Case in point: As we were listening to the radio a few weeks ago, Clara's favorite John Mayer song, "Waiting on the World to Change" came on. Clara said, "I love this song, but I don't like 'Gravity'." Without missing a beat, Trevor said, "Why not? Do you think it would be better to just float around, instead of being stuck to the ground?"

See what I mean? Thinking boy.

I have listened to, and pondered forty-seven thousand of Trevi's deep thoughts. But today, I just needed to not hear about the latest invention, or attempt to follow the convoluted tale of the day's happenings at preschool, or answer any questions whatsoever. I just couldn't do it. My head was as full as my bladder. So I said, "Manny, I just need some time with no questions. Why don't you go and play for a few hours, I mean, minutes?"

After I'd finished staring into space, here's where I found him:
At first, I thought that he was (bizarrely) asleep. Then, he opened his eyes. He said, "Hey, Mummy! I don't have any more questions to ask you, because I asked the pliano bench."
Which begs the question: Should I feel sad or relieved that I can be replaced by a bench?