Lil’ Adventurer likes to talk. A lot. He talks about everything and anything, but he especially likes to talk about things he imagines. The other night he woke up late from a late nap, and he was too wired to go back to sleep at nine, which is his regular bed time. (One of the nice things about being home with my little ones all day is that I don’t have to have them out the door at an early hour so I can get to work on time. It’s really nice to have a later bed time when The Handy Man and the older girls come in after seven from archery and we have dinner together.) Lil’ Adventurer outlasted me that night, and when the Handy Man finally turned off the late news at 11 PM, Lil’ Adventurer was still talking a mile a minute.
Tonight we had another late dinner as the crew didn’t come in until almost 7:30. Lil’ Adventurer was in full force with his latest story when the funniest thing happened. He went to get down from his chair to get a cup or something, when he slipped out of the chair, landed on his hands and knees, and popped back up, while never missing a word in his soliloquy. It was hilarious, but he wasn’t quite happy with us as we chuckled through that portion of his dramatic telling.
The problem with Lil’ Adventurer talking all the time is that
it gives me a blooming headache he seldom stops talking long enough to actually listen. I know adults like that…and it is far from cute when an adult does it. He often lives in his own little world, and he seldom responds to me the first time I call him. If I knew he was disobeying me, I could discipline for that, but what does one do when the child simply doesn’t hear you because he is so involved in the dialog in his brain? I think he will likely be a writer. Anyone with that much dialog in their heads is either a writer or schizophrenic. I prefer the former.
The other problem is that I find we don’t listen to him nearly as much as we should, either. Since he talks so much, it is very easy to just sort of filter his words as background noise, and I find myself missing important messages. He tried to deliver an important message yesterday. I was not feeling well and had stayed home with the two boys while the Handy Man took all the girls to church. We had eaten spaghetti for dinner, and I was cleaning up from dinner with the boys’ help. Curious George had seen the opportunity to abscond with the Parmesan cheese while Lil’ Adventurer helped me put away left overs and get the dirty dishes off the table and into the dishwasher. Of course Lil’ Adventurer kept a steady stream of monolog going the whole time, to which I nodded politely and said “really?” and “you don’t say!” and “uh-ha” in appropriate pauses. So it did not register immediately when Lil’ Adventurer announced to me, “George has the noodle powder.” “Good,” I replied. He insisted, “He’s making a mess on his table.” “Oh, okay,” I assured him.
It was so totally a mom fail. Here I was being told that Curious George was wasting food in his room (again) and I casually agreed as if this was perfectly fine! A few minutes later George came toddling down the hallway with his hands covered in white crumbs. I looked at Lil’ Adventurer and asked with alarm, “What does he have all over his hands?” He looked at me like I was nuts and said, ” I told you he has the noodle powder!” OH…THAT noodle powder!
I took George to clean him up and asked Lil’ Adventurer to please go see if he could clean up the mess a bit. He returned very excited with the Parmesan cheese in one hand and this pronouncement: “I found a vacuum cleaner in my room!” Um, yes, that would be one of our two vacuum cleaners that currently reside in that room because George daily makes a mess in there that requires vacuuming. Lil’ Adventurer was thrilled to get to use his vacuuming prowess on the noodle powder, Curious George got a nice thorough bath, and they both got to bed fairly early because frankly, I was exhausted.
Communication. Too much of it is not necessarily a good thing.