Richie, in lawyer like fashion, asks the first kind.
He only asks, "Can I have a special treat?" when he's eaten all his dinner. Then he repeats the question just to hear, "Yes."
He follows up, asking, "Did I do a good job eating my dinner?"
Again to emphasize that last point, "Did I do good?"
"You did great."
"Do I get a piece of candy?"
"Is it my Easter candy?"
"Not Johnny's Easter candy?"
"No it's yours."
"Did I do a good job?"
"You did a great job."
He knows all these answers, and that's what makes him such a good lawyer.
If, on the other hand, his food sits untouched on his plate because of some tragic error, such as, (in an opera voice) "It has salsa on it. Salsaaaaa," then he doesn't even ask for a treat. Instead, he tries to get Johnny to smuggle him something he can eat under the table. They are invisible under the table.
Johnny asks the tough questions. The ones you'd never see on a FAQ sheet, unless it was a parent of 5-year-old's FAQ's sheet.
Who is a better lifeguard: an elephant or a human?
Are leprochauns endangered?
Why do people die?
Why do old people get sick?
If we evolved from mice, why do we kill mice?
Why did the chemicals make Mr. Fantastic stretchy?
Why did God make shells breakable?
Is "fake" a real word?
Do you think Scooby Doo will be afraid of his own spirit when he dies?
Johnny daydreams through my answers, which is just as well because they are complete bull honkey.
No, kids don't ask questions for the same reasons adults do, that is to find things out. They want reassurance and confirmation. They want to hear "yes" instead of the "no" they hear so many times a day.
And I think they even need reassurance that, even though they know almost everything, more, miraculously, than their older and wiser parents, there are still some mysteries out there.