Because I Said So

My son is three, and I hereby take back every judgmental thought I've had about parents who say "Because I said so."

He's asking "Why?" so often these days, reflexively and always in response to my requests that he stop doing something.

Why?
Because I survived on grapes and Saltines for the first three months you lived inside of me, and I gave you proteins from my very own body so that you could make yours, and I labored to release you into this world for 27 hours before my abdomen was cut open (leaving a scar that remains to this day), and my belly and navel will never look the same again because your growing limbs stretched them to their limit. Because my body has already done so much for you, I kindly request that you stop hitting my leg in time with the music of Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood.

Why?
Because my full-time job is giving you food, helping you to the bathroom, reading you stories, building block towers to your detailed specifications, taking you to the park, and dressing you even when a shirt going over your head is the most terrifying thing that's ever happened. Because I devote far more than eight hours a day to your happiness and well-being, it would be great if you could let me eat this turkey sandwich in peace.

Why?
Because I've had an uninterrupted night's sleep exactly zero times since your little sister was born twelve weeks ago, and because your sleep schedule has continued unaltered, I think you really owe it to me to stop crashing your scooter into the wall and watch Finding Nemo quietly while I power nap for the next fifteen minutes.

I try to be supportive of other parents I come across, knowing that we're each fighting a hard and unique battle with hard and unique kids, but I admit that the phrase "Because I said so" always seemed lazy to me, such a substandard way of addressing your child's attempts to understand this confusing world of rules and expectations. It's still not an expression I enjoy, and I'll use it as little as I can manage. But I think I'm understanding more why a parent might whip out that old standby answer. It's basically shorthand for "I have done everything for you and cared for you in a manner that has completely unraveled my world and put it back together again in a beautiful, exhausting shape; can you not just do as I say in this moment and please stop hitting your toy trains together a mere three inches from my face?"