Today’s Forecast: 97 Questions and One Dead Reptile

I had a 7-minute “conversation” with my five-year-old this week about why he couldn’t bathe a dead lizard.

And I wish I could say that was the weirdest part of the day.

Immediately after the lizard bath denial, he and his brothers rattled off approximately 34 more questions, including (but not limited to):

• “Do chickens have elbows?”

• "Where is a lizard's butt?"

• “What are hang gliders made of?”

• “If there’s no wind today, how are the clouds still moving?”

• “Why did God promise not to flood the earth again but didn’t say anything about frying it? Because it’s SO hot right now.”

• “Why is the bottom of a lake squishy mud but the ocean has soft sand?”

• “Does it hurt when cicadas molt and break out of their skin? Like… does it bleed like us?”

And that was before 9:00am.

They don’t accept “I don’t know.”

Or “just because.” Or “we can talk about it later.” They need to know. Like really know.

They need to dissect it, analyze it, poke at it, twist it around and ask it again in a slightly different way just in case your first answer was a fluke.

They need you to be sure. And trust me—I am not.

I feel dumb most days. Like I’m constantly five seconds away from being exposed by my own children as someone who has absolutely no idea how clouds work.

These kids are a lot.

They’re loud. They’re relentless. They’re borderline conspiracy theorists when it comes to raccoons, lizards, gravity, and the theology of summer heat.

And I love them so much it physically hurts.

Because yes—they’re exhausting. But they’re also amazing.

They care deeply. They notice things. They challenge everything. They push, and they press, and they dig until they hit the core of whatever they’re curious about.

And one day? They’re going to change the world because of it.

And me? I’m just trying to survive.

I think I will.

I hope I will.

Because right now, I’m the full-time on-call field guide to three little brains that won’t quit. Brains that need snacks every 12 minutes and also want to know if they throw their airplane into the tree, will it scare the squirrels.

I’m constantly caught between awe and overwhelm.

But somewhere in the middle of the chaos, I’m reminded:

God isn’t afraid of their questions. And He’s not overwhelmed by mine either.

I don’t have all the answers.

And neither do you. But we’re doing something really important: We’re showing up for the hard questions.

We’re the safe place they come to ask, “Why does God allow sunburns?”

and “Can raccoons be trained like circus dogs?”

And even though our brains are fried and our coffee is cold, we’re answering. Or at least trying.

And I think God smiles at that. At us fumbling through lizard hygiene and animal anatomy, trying our best to raise kids who are curious and kind and never stop wondering.

Just for fun…

I made a printable called: Top 10 Unhinged Questions We Got This Week.

Print it. Fill it out. Stick it on the fridge—or on the bathroom mirror as a reminder that you’re not crazy. You’re just raising the curious ones.

Download it here!

Final Thought

They’re going to do incredible things. Not despite the chaos…Because of it.

Their questions mean they care. They notice. They wonder.

And one day, when the world needs a new idea, a new solution, or someone brave enough to ask “what if”—it’s going to be one of these loud, dirt-covered, question-hurling kids who steps up.

But today?

Today I’m hiding in the pantry with a granola bar and Googling, “Do chickens have elbows?”

We will survive them. By grace, caffeine, and Google.