Why Don't Fish Have Chins?

This is one of my Dad's favorite stories about me. I was 4 years old. My mom was in the hospital recovering from gallbladder surgery, so it was me and daddy together for the day.... the whole day. Those of you who know me well know I can always come up with a question, or two, or three. It started early in life apparently. He says I talked all day long. Constantly asking him questions about everything, everywhere we went. The store, to lunch, more errands, to my grandparents, etc... Finally that night when we were driving home he told me he needed some quiet. "Ginger, let's just don't ask anymore questions for the ride home, ok?" My response was, "But daddy I really need to know something... Why don't fish have chins?" By the time he quit laughing I had moved on the the next question.
I called my dad the other day to tell him that this personality trait was 100% handed down to my oldest daughter. She can wear me out with questions. But why? Where? Why can't I see it? Why can't I hear it? What? What? What? What did you say? Who is that man/woman? Why are they over there? What did that person say? Where are we going? Which way are we going? What are you doing? Why are you doing that? Can I do that? Can everybody do that? What is that noise? Where? Where is daddy? Why, Why, Why? Why can't Mary Elliott do this? Why can't Mary Elliott eat this? And on, and on and on. On this particular day I was at my witts end... My ears were burning I think and I was flat out of any answers.
My dad got a really good laugh when I called him; I'm sure it was quite gratifying to know that somebody could finally relate to the humorous frustration that he felt that day. He laughed and told me to hang in there, and that maybe one day I'll find the answer for why fish don't have chins.