Letters from Daddy

Drew has so far received two letters from Daddy. Each letter contained not only a short note from Daddy, telling Drew how much he loved him and a little bit about what Dad is doing, but also a special treat like a pack of stickers or a book.
It's gotten so that now, when I stop off at the mailbox on the way home, Drew immediately asks, "Do I have a letter from Daddy?"
When the answer is no, not today, Drew frowns and asks me why. (his new favorite question. why? why do I have to take a bath? why do I have to go to sleep? why do I have to put on clothes? why why why?)
Trying to explain the U.S. Postal Service to a preschooler is a bit like trying to tell someone how bubble gum tastes if they've never tried it. (it tastes like...well...like bubble gum, dammit!)
Still, I give it the old college try.
"Because it hasn't gotten here yet. Maybe it will be here tomorrow."
"But why not now?"
"Remember how I told you about the big truck? The one that takes our letters aaaaaallllll the way across the country to where Daddy is?"
Squinch. Ponder.
"Yee-eees," he says, dubiously. (why do I think he doubts the big truck story?)
"Well, a big truck has to drive all the way back across the country to get Daddy's letters to us. And sometimes that takes a few days."
"Why does it take a few days?"
"Because the trucks can only drive so fast."
"So fast? How fast do they drive?"
"I guess whatever the speed limit is."
Squinch. Ponder.
"Mommy. What did you say?" (this is his standard response when he doesn't understand)
"Never mind."
"Mommy. I want a letter from Daddy. Now."

OK, Drew just joined me in the computer room. Just for fun, I'm going to sit here and transcribe everything he says for the next five minutes.

"Mommy, are you little or big?"
"I'm big."
"Am I little or big?"
"You're little."
"No, I'm not. I'm big. I'm THIS big." (holding out a Fig Newton cookie)
"You're as big as a Fig Newton?"
"No, this big." (holding up his index finger)

Pause

"Mommy, I want to play Max and Ruby." (a game he plays on the computer. The one I'm using right now)
"I'm on the computer right now."
"Mommy, is that my Chapstick?"
"Yes, that's yours."
"Here, you eat the rest of these." (handing me some mangled Fig Newtons.)
"Thanks. Really. It's almost your bedtime."
"Mommy, this flashlight doesn't have any batteries." (notice how he ignores the whole "bedtime" thing.)
"I know, it needs new ones."
"Can you go get some new batteries, please?"
"Not right now. Because it's almost your bedtime." (notice how I smoothly intercepted the "why" that was sure to come?)
"But I don't like to go to bed."
"You can go to my bed and lay in there until I'm ready to come join you."
(by the time I finish this sentence, he's already left the room. He has little patience for all this talk of bedtime.)

Time to log off and get my little guy settled. More soon...