14 questions I'm dying to ask my two-year-old.

Two-year-olds are mysterious, maddening creatures. Last week, I rocked Rowan to sleep for a nap, gently placed her in her crib, and crept towards the door. Her eyes popped open, her head whipped around to find me, and just like that, nap time was over. Cursing my malfunctioning Invisibility Cloak, I wondered: Does she do that when I’m not in the room? Like, if I’m already downstairs, cuddling with a snack and the Netflix remote, does she wake up and simply drift back off to sleep, or does she just not wake up at all?

My incident with Schrödinger’s Toddler got me thinking about all the other questions I have for my two-year-old. As confused as she may be about this big world that she’s only known for twenty-four short months, I’m confused, too...by her.

Please, child, answer me this:

1. Why is my food better than your food? You could be eating chocolate-covered angels sent directly from heaven, but the second you see a spoonful of broccoli quinoa headed towards my mouth, it’s the most delicious and coveted food in the universe. This, mind you, is the same broccoli quinoa that you soundly rejected the previous night at dinner.
2. What’s so offensive about my singing voice? I know I’m not the actual Elsa of Arendelle, but am I really so bad as to warrant your screeching NO MOMMY SING, NO SING, NO NO NO from the backseat of the car?
3. Do you know that your big feelings (AKA, tantrums) give me big feelings, too? Really big. I’d love to get a little credit for keeping my cool when you lose yours, even though I’m tempted to pound my fists on the floor and wail right alongside you.
4. What’s the deal with Elmo? Why are you and all your cohorts obsessed with him? Is it his big eyes? His red fur? His saccharine voice? His easy-to-pronounce name? I’ve spent a disconcerting amount of time trying to get to the bottom of this. Why Elmo, versus, say, Big Bird or Cookie Monster?
5. Do you know that I don’t actually coat your toothbrush with spikes and poison? It’s just a toothbrush. With Elmo on it, even. No spikes, I swear.
6. What’s with the 5 a.m. wake-ups? I assure you, nothing of consequence happens before 7:30 in the morning. 
7. And how about those nights when you stay awake in your crib for hours after we put you to bed, just babbling and singing away? Are you afraid you’re missing something? Actually - I gotta give you this one. You ARE missing out. Popcorn and “Scandal” are fabulous.
8. Why are the noisiest toys your favorite toys? Do you know what MY favorite toy is? A book.
9. WHAT IS THAT BROWN STUFF ON YOUR HANDS?
10. How do you KNOW when we’re running late? And what physical mechanism of yours is launched upon this realization, thereby causing you to function at half-speed?
11. Tell me the meaning behind this exchange: You ask to sit at the little table. I say, “Sure!” You collapse and scream, “NO NO NO,” so I respond, “Or you can sit in the high chair. Either way is fine.” You fling yourself against a wall and scream, “NO NO NO,” so I respond, “No high chair? Do you want to sit at the little table?” You lift your head pathetically and whisper, “Yeah. Little table.” I SAID YES TO THAT THE FIRST TIME YOU ASKED. WHAT THE HELL?
12. Why didn’t you warn me when you saw me toss your dirty diaper into the hamper instead of the Diaper Genie?
13. Do you know that I literally have a Masters degree in toddlerhood, and yet you still confound me?
14. But that I’m madly in love with you nonetheless?