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I remember when I used to play …
By Me | May 23, 2007
I’m an old lady who was raised by an old lady.
Sometimes, when I’m around my children, I think about her.
When I was coming up, children were seen and occasionally used for target practice, but not heard.
Adults didn’t like children who “chattered.” And, because we generally did not enjoy getting repeatedly slapped, we were quiet — at least, around them.
My kids have no fears of this kind. I find that, at a certain point in their development, they chatter like magpies.
All four of them did this. Gina, at the age of six, used to talk so much that one day, in self defense, I told her to go watch the leaves grow. She did, too. A few minutes later, she came back to tell me about it.
But I probably told you about that already.
I used to challenge her, when she was slightly older, to see if she could stop talking for sixty seconds. That worked so well — for sixty seconds at a time, anyway — that I tried it on Kimmie.
Me (hopeful): Do you think you could stop talking for sixty seconds?
Kimmie (matter-of-fact): No.
Ricky is at that chatterbox stage now. (Did you think this condition only afflicts girls? Think again.) He talks, I think, just to reassure himself that he’s still there. That’s the only reason I can think of, because he doesn’t seem to care if anybody is listening or wants to listen or (sometimes) is even still in the room.
So, when I think about my mom and I think about my kids, I’m very happy that I haven’t killed any of them yet. By now, she most certainly would have.
[tags]chatty children, mommyblogging, parenting[/tags]
Topics: Nature's Psyche Lab (aka Family) |
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