Riddles

While somewhere in the midst of my elementary school career, I came across a clever little friend who introduced me to this riddle.

“Pete and Repeat went out on a boat. Pete fell off. Who was left??!!
Repeat! “
“Pete and Repeat went out on a boat. Pete fell off. Who was left??!!
Repeat!”
“Pete and Repeat went out on a boat…”

You get the picture.

This riddle could be never-ending, but hopefully the person on the “Repeat” end of the joke would eventually catch on and the two friends would share a chummy laugh and cease their riddling ways.

But I want to know what would happen if the friend telling the joke somehow tricked the other person into continuing the back and forth this joke offers. What if the “Repeat” person never caught on? Or, what if they caught on but the riddler wouldn’t let them out of the joke?
Yes, there is a good reason I’m asking you this question?

This riddle explains so much of my day—heck, it is my day. This riddle is where I live. I feel like I’m stuck inside this ridiculous conundrum- trapped somewhere between Pete falling off and the next “repeat.”

And who’s the clever little riddler, you ask?

None other than my own flesh and blood. Those four little people who can match half their DNA to mine. Those four little girls who look so darling and innocent while they secretly hatch out a plan—well, actually I don’t think they have any intent here. But they also have no clue what they are doing to my brain all day as they keep me inside their riddle asking me the same questions over and over and over.

I know this is all par for the course when you are raising four little girls aged newborn to 3 ½ years. I know that this is just a phase. I know that one day when they are fighting about clothes and privacy I will miss the constant repetition of their favorite questions.

Questions like, “Mom, where are we going tomorrow?” “Who’s coming over to see us?” “What are we doing in the morning?” These questions are all part of Peach’s nighttime routine—fitting in right between her hug and kiss goodnight!

Then there’s Brownie who comes up to me while I’m cooking her mac ‘n cheese and says, “Mom, I want pasta!” And I tell her, “I know honey, I’m cooking your pasta right now.” But I know that in about one to two minutes she’ll trot right back over to me as I stand there stirring her pasta and demand again, “Mom, I waaaaant pastaaa!” Uh-huh, I know little Miss Repeat.

Right now, it’s all I can do to not shout from the hilltops, “LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” when they start in with their 20 million questions that repeat themselves. That would be rude and I know I’d end up causing them some kind of complex that would land them in the therapist’s office 20 years down the road.

Instead, I try to look at their little quirks as just that—little quirks!

They’re all unique—just as each and every one of us is. And we all have our quirks. My kids just happen to like repeating themselves over and over again. For now, I’ll just learn to deal.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering—no, I never intend on teaching them that silly riddle about Pete and Repeat! And if you personally know us, you better not teach them either!!