Why

"Daddy, can you roll down the window?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because it's too cold."
"I don't think it's cold. Please, Daddy."
"No."
"Why?"
Then, having passed a long day for other reasons, I lost it. "Maddy," I yelled. "It doesn't matter why. If Dad says it, that's how it is. There's no other reason than my saying it."

Silence.

In the sweetest, softest who-down-in-whoville voice: "Ok, Daddy. Whatever you say." Broken hearted, I rolled down the window.

Later, facing another "why attack," I took another approach. Calmly: "Maddie, you have to stop saying why to everything we ask you to do."
"Why, Daddy?"

Loud laughter from mom.

If I know anything, I know when to fold 'em. "You win, kid. Ask away."