Tuesday, August 12, 2008

The Gift of Gab

My middle child has turned into a talker overnight.
Boo went from have garbled strings of nonsensical words that might make sense to full on sentences and phrases that not only demand recognition but an answer--and fast!
And it happened in just an instant.
He went to bed one night talking like a toddler and woke up the Speaker of the House.
Last night, exhausted, foot sore, and ready to collapse, i was greeted by my middle child, who launched into a full soliloquy about his day, my day, the computer, his bear, the printer, the bathroom, his brother, his sister, and anything else that caught his fancy.
I tried to escape the torrent of words by retreating into the inner sanctuary (i.e the bathroom), but he stood outside the door and asked about my well being.
I went to my bedroom and crawled into the closet, surreptitiously looking for silence while claiming I was looking for some lost treasure.
He followed me. And when The Man tried to shoo him from the room, The Man--and here's the irony--shut Boo's middle finger in the door not once, but twice.
So then I was compelled by parental guilt to come out of the closet to handle my maimed, crying son, while laughing at the irony of The Man shutting his son's middle finger in the door when the middle finger is one that he lost 10 weeks ago.
Once recovered, I realized there was no escape. I was treated to a dissertation on popcorn and milk until bedtime.
I simple sat there, nodding encouragingly while trying to focus anywhere else.
Boo certainly has the gift of gab.
In spades.
Oh boy!

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