If I had a counter that could count high enough, I would keep track of the number of questions my 10 year old son asks in a day. I'm curious: how many questions do I field on any given day? And what's more, how many answers does he actually digest? Today in rapid-fire succession my son asked, “Hey mum, why is that light there? Hey mum, why do some hotels have room numbers? Hey mum, how do you build a key card reader? Hey mum, why don't you know how to build a key card reader? Hey mum, if we had 100 billion dollars, how many security cameras could we buy? Hey mum, why does that truck say emergency fire flood services? Hey mum, what's a fire-flood? Hey mum, what's an emergency light? Hey mum, how do you say ‘baby' in Korean?” One of my favourite parenting experts says that the Torah tells us, “The child chooses the parent.” If that's true, then my son clearly got my resume mixed up with that of an MIT graduate of Mechanical Engineering who spent a semester in Seoul and whose ambitions span far beyond finishing the coffee they made for themselves 2 hours ago or taking a bath without interruption. The answers to those questions, if anyone gives a shit, are: 1. “So that buses can get a head start on the rest of the traffic.” 2. “All hotels have room numbers, unless they are small enough to name their rooms, or it's some weird avant-garde boutique hotel where every door is blank and it's up to you to choose your own adventure.” 3. “I don't know how to make a key card reader.” 4. “I'm sorry, I didn't go to school for that. Maybe it's the same technology as debit card machines.” 5. “A lot.” 6. “Because they respond to fire damage or damage from leaks that you get in your entryway and basement because the strata doesn't have enough money to fix the roof AND the garage membrane.” 7. “Fire AND flood.” 8. “Lights that turn on in emergencies.” 9. “아가”