I am verbal. I am loquacious. I can say in 3 paragraphs what it takes most people to say in 3 sentences. I can make small talk with a brick wall.
It seems my son has inherited this from me. Although he usually clams up in front of others, especially people we don’t see often, when we are at home, he is a chatterbox from morning to night. He has a running commentary on everything, play-by-play of his thoughts and actions, and has more questions than I ever knew existed. I always thought the “Why? Why? Why?” stories were merely a stereotype. A hyperbole used by tired moms to express their child’s annoying quirks. It is neither of those things. It is real. (And for the record, when a mom says “I don’t even have time to take a shower!” she’s not exaggerating either. She probably really does not have time to take a shower.)
You may recall how I wrote about how thrilled I am that Carson is finally learning to entertain himself in the early hours, and is allowed to come get me (in bed) at 7am. This is still a blessing. However, this gives him, on average, about 20-40 minutes to wake up and get his mind working. This gives me, on average, 2 seconds to get my mind working before the questions, comments and requests begin.
Please imagine, if you will, that Carson has a lapel-microphone on him, reality-TV style. Welcome to Tompkins Storytime Theater. All you really need to “hear” is his dialogue, because most of mine consisted of grunts, moans, sighs & occasional short answer. This morning Trent was gone early to workout and work. This is, more or less, the conversation:
“Mom. Mom. I waited until the big hand was on the seven, and the other hand was pointing up! Can I get up now?
Did you hear me playing in my room?
Did you know I found my drum?!
You did? You heard?
I know! I found it! It still works!
Why was it in the back of my closet under all those blankets?
Why are you going in there?
Why did you close the door?
Can I come in?
Poop or pee?
Do you need more toilet paper?
Did you wash your hands?
Let me smell.
Ooo…what kind of soap is that?
Where did you get that soap?
Why is the soap in your bathroom different than the soap in my bathroom?
Why don’t you know?
Can we go watch Curious George?
What’s on after Curious George?
Did we get a movie for me in the mail?
What are we doing this weekend? [this is what he asks me every day, even though I’ve explained to him that he means “today”]
Why are you just standing there?
Well, why is your coffee taking so long?
Why don’t you know?
I’m hungry. Can I have a popsicle?
Why don’t we have them for breakfast?
But I do! I DO want a popsicle! I WAAAAAAAAAAAANT ONE! Please, please, please, PLEASE!
What’s a ‘drama queen’?
Well, what CAN I have?
Why is that all?
Why are some bananas brown, some are yellow and some are green?
What does ‘ripe’ mean?
Why are you rubbing your eyes?
Why are you tired?
Why did Sydney wake up a lot?
I know. I heard her.
[BTW, this is where I really started to wake up, because, and this next line is a direct, word-for-word quote, it made me giggle so hard to hear it coming from him.]
I heard Sydney crying and crying and I was going, like, ‘HO-no! This is NOT GOOD!’
Why are you laughing?
Are your eyes awake NOW?
Why am I funny?
Did your coffee get ready?
Where are we going this weekend?”
And on and on and on and on and on.
Love that kid!