The children and I are on a quest for knowledge. Not on the same quest though. The children are curious and inquisitive about the world around them. I, on the other hand, just want to know where exactly in the world I am. I'll show you what I mean. Things I spend my middle-aged days wondering about: Why am I standing in front of the open refrigerator? Have I been here long? What are we going to eat for breakfast? Do oatmeal cookies count as breakfast? What am I doing in my closet and why am I holding this spatula? How come I'm the only one who knows how to change a roll of toilet paper? Should I be glad that I still possess this skill? One day will I forget how? Why does the van marked Prisoner Transport keep stopping at the house next door? Should I be worried about this? My children do not understand that my brain is ninety percent cotton and befuddlement and because of this they zing questions at me out of the blue and all day long. They are such hopeful children. There is n...