"Why do fools fall in love?"
"Why is the sky blue, and not a different colour?"
"What would happen if the sun got colder?"
"Was there ever a dinosaur with hair?"
"Qu'est-ce que tu écris à propos?" Joe read Katrina's page over her shoulder. (What are you writing about?)
"Mrs. Lindstrom wants us to write down every single question we can think of, to build a curiosity wall at school. Our theme is "No Such Thing as a Dumb Question"." Katrina continued to write more questions, such as "Why is a bird called a bird, and not a fly?" and "What is a hootenanny?"
"Interessante," said Joe, sitting next to his daughter. "Qui est Mme. Lindstrom?" (Interesting. …Who is Mrs. Lindstrom?)
"Our English teacher," said Katrina. "We go see her every day after lunch."
Katrina wrote down every single question she could possibly think of, such as "Why can't people be born with purple hair?" and "Why is some fish okay to eat raw, but not all fish?"
Intrigued, Joe picked up a pen and paper and jotted down some questions he'd had burning in the back of his mind for a while.
"Ou est-ce que le mot "zombie" d'origine?" (Where did the word "zombie" come from?)
"Pourquoi est-ce que les américaines se prononcent Paris comme "pair-iss" et pas "pa-ree"?" (Why do Americans pronounce Paris like "pair-iss" and "pa-ree"?)
"Qui était le premier boxeur de l'histoire?" (Who was the first boxer in history?)
Joe then glanced back at Katrina's paper. "If I was a toy, what would my box say?"
That was a very intriguing question. If Katrina was like a little doll in a toy store, what would her box say? Why, it could say that if you press the button on the back of her neck, she will talk to you. She'd come with a few different outfits, and she'd have brushable hair. And on the back of her box, there'd be a little story, that tells the child holding her that she was born in Canada, and came to live with her Parisian father at a young age; that she likes to draw, play games, and she gets straight A's in English class.
Then he thought about the question in terms of himself. He suspected he would not make a very good doll. What kid would want to play with a homely, clumsy, dare he say, average Joe? Imagine that box; "Joseph Beaufort was born in Paris to a single mother, since his father abandoned the family because he didn't want a second child. He grew up without any friends, then had a one-night stand baby, and now he's a thirty-four year old loser who's terrible at his job and can't do anything right."
He stopped his train of thought for a moment and blinked. People don't really think that, do they?
He shook his head. Of course not, that would be ridiculous. After all, if it were true, he would have his daughter, boyfriend, and circle of companions, now would he?
The next day, when Katrina went off to school, everyone wrote their questions onto little slips of paper, and piled them into a fishbowl. "Now," said Mrs. Lindstrom, "everyone will get a slip, and for tonight's homework, you have to find an answer to the question you get. And even if you can't find an answer, that's okay; someone else in the class might have one."
Every student in the class got a slip. On Katrina's slip was written, in Tameka Dominguez's handwriting, "Who was the first lady president?"
Katrina got to thinking about that. Around her, some kids were writing out little stories as their answers. Katrina, on the other hand, went to the library at lunch time to find a history book.
That afternoon, when she came home from school, she asked her father, "Have you ever heard of Vigdis Finnbogadottir?"
"Hm?" Joe looked up from his book. "Non, qui c'est elle?" (No, who is she?)
"She was the first lady president in the whole world. I learned that in school today." She looked rather proud of herself. "All by myself."
"Génial, bien pour toi." (Cool, good for you.) Joe praised his daughter.
