I hear you telling about your daughter:

"You looked at the nice photographer who showed you a hand puppet, and you were convinced it was talking to you.
You showed an interest in your eyes and much more beyond them.
I lifted you off the chair when the picture had been taken.
Your fragrance was unique, you were light, but filled up the room.
I felt that it was you, your small movements, your form.
I knew what you wanted in the next moment and why why before and why why by and by.
Why does it look different now?" you ask.

Time is invariably filled up by itself, and you reply that you didn't think that way at the time.
You wonder at what you recollect, and if you will remember that you wrote this and where and when and why.

Never ever why - just BECAUSE.