You know those little voices we long to know the sound of as a new mother, the thoughts we wish we could pluck from the brain of our smiling infant? That wish is granted at age four. It is granted and granted and granted and granted.
I think the world is likely to fall mute soon. There can’t be many words left. I’m certain Anders has said them all in the last 24 hours. The incessant jibber jabber coupled to my two year old singing the last portion of the ABC song (which ceased being adorable around the 900th repeat performance) have made me wish aloud more than once today that I would go deaf.
Have you ever been subjected to the stream of consciousness of an almost five year old boy from the moment you woke up until late in the evening? Lately, Anders has only an outer monologue. It’s confusing and exhausting and…well, it’s bizarre. There is a reason most people don’t give voice to every thought in their head. Even as I sit here typing this I can hear him talking in his room. Topics which have spanned sea captains to spaghetti dinners and change without warning from first to third person.
Anders has no secrets, no private thoughts. Even his silent farts are announced before the smell wafts about the room. I called my mother this morning to whine about the unending chatter. Even while I vented my frustration Anders talked over me in the background. She assured me it was a trait he came by honestly. She said I talked myself to sleep nearly every night as a child.
It amazes me that she survived it and still has the strength to answer the phone when I call. I am all chatted out at this point.
Now, if I could only get him to tell me about his school day…
Anyone else have a kid going through a chatty phase? I’d say let’s talk about it, but maybe that’s a bad idea.