It does not make sense, mama

It’s been cold here. Too cold for April, and certainly too cold for Easter weekend. As temperatures dropped last night, I decided to pull my car into the garage. I hate scraping frost off the windows.

It was late and getting colder. Jack was in bed but still awake. (Shocking, I know). So I explained to him that I would be going downstairs, opening the garage door, pulling my car in, and closing the garage door. I was not leaving. No need to panic. I would be right back.

“Why you need to bring car to garage?” he asked, concerned. (Except since he stutters it came out, “wh-wh-wh-why- wh-wha-wha-why you n-n-n-n need to bring car to ga-ga-ga-gar-garage?”)

“Well, it’s cold outside,” I explained. “I don’t want the car to get frost on it.”

Worried he might panic when I went downstairs, I explained again step by step:
“So you’ll hear mommy go downstairs. You’ll hear me pick up my keys. You’ll hear the garage door open. Then you’ll hear me start my car. I’ll pull the car into the garage. Then you’ll hear me close the garage door; and I’ll come right back upstairs, Ok?”

Ok, he nodded, sitting up in bed, waiting. I returned less than 90 seconds later. He was fine, but puzzled.

“It, it, it.. does does does, doesn’t m-m-m-make sense,” he said.
“What doesn’t make sense, sweetheart?” I asked.
Again: “It does not make sense, mama.”
“What hon?”
“Wh-wh-why you put frosting on your car?”