I'm Major Jackson, and this is the slowdown.

Confession As a young parent, when my children barrage

me what questions so many times I wanted to poof disappear.

We've all experienced this moment, right?

When a child suddenly becomes a human question generator, or a, you think you're smart, but

I'm going to bring you to your knees in recognition of your ignorance, kind of a child.

No, there was never malice, but the onslaught felt relentless.

As a matter of the relations, if you're a auntie or uncle, godparent, grandparent, or

older sibling, you two have probably been caught in the labyrinth of some child's wonderment

and sought the nearest way out.

Why is the moon in the sky?

Where does subway rats sleep?

Who made the first loaf of bread?

Are we aliens?

Why are trees green?

Although sometimes I knew the answers, I did not want to devote the entire morning to

explaining sunlight, photosynthesis, and chlorophyll.

Doing so would either daisy chain into a series of new questions or cut into nap time, and

they needed their sleep as much as I needed time to compose a poem during that quick

respite.

Although the desire to vanish would dissipate pretty quickly.

A child's curiosity deserves attention and cultivation, and might be one of the most

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