Quinn’s vocabulary is astounding. At his eighteen month
check-up, Dr. L said Q’s language ability exceeds that of most two year olds
she sees.
I beamed with pride. Q comes by these skills honestly, as
Hubs and I both hail from long lines of expressive people.
But there’s something I need to remember: not everybody
likes a talkative child. Sometimes talkative children can get really annoying
after a little while, especially when they’re not your own… or maybe sometimes even
when they are your own.
Let me tell you a story.
A few weeks ago, Q and I were at the park when we met
Emmett, a precocious little boy who knew exactly how to get the attention he
craved. When Emmett first started talking to me, I found him to be
adorable and sweet. I marveled at how much older he seemed, and he captivated
me with his charm. (Just say it. Sucker!)
Once he knew he had lured me in, the pace and persistence of
Emmett’s chatter instantly increased. What started out as a couple of short
statements here and there quickly turned into a barrage of Emmett’s stream of
consciousness. He held me hostage by vocalizing every single thought that
entered his brain.
Our conversation – and my inner commentary – went something
like this:
EMMETT: My name is Emmett and this is my sister, Grace. What’s your
name?
ME: Hello, Emmett. I’m Melissa, and this is my son Quinn. (What a sweet little boy!)
EMMETT: I’m four years old. I just had a birthday. I had a Diego
birthday party.
ME: Happy birthday, Emmett! That must have been a fun party. (This kid’s only four?! Wow, he’s really
advanced.)
EMMETT: I’m really tall for my age. My dad is really tall, and my
mom is really tall, that’s why I’m really tall. I’m so big, I have to wear
whale shoes.
ME: Whale shoes, huh? Those must be really big shoes. (Haha! What a cutie. I want to take him home
with me.)
EMMETT: I like coming to the park. I come here every day with my
sister.
ME: That’s really nice, Emmett. (Uh
oh, Quinn’s on the move. Better follow him.)
Emmett sees my attempt to pay attention to a child other
than him, so he physical inserts himself between Quinn and me, and I almost
trip over him.
EMMETT: My sister is learning to pee on the potty. But I already
know how to pee on the potty because I’m bigger.
ME: Yes, you are. (You’re
cute kid, but I really need to pay attention to the baby.)
I do a fake-left-go-right maneuver to get around Emmett just in time to save Q from taking a head dive off the top of the slide.
I do a fake-left-go-right maneuver to get around Emmett just in time to save Q from taking a head dive off the top of the slide.
EMMETT: Power Rangers use swords to fight bad guys. I fight bad
guys with swords, too.
ME: Yep. (Okay, that’s enough Emmett. We’re done
now.)
EMMETT: When I get bigger, I’m going to drive a really big truck
like my uncle.
ME: Yep, trucks are pretty cool. (For the love of all that is holy, please stop talking!)
EMMETT: Did you know that it’s really hard to cut wood? You have to
have a really sharp saw to cut wood. Yeah, if you want to cut wood, you need a
sharp saw.
ME: Yep, you’re right about that Emmett. (If I had a sharp saw right now, I would cut off my own arm just to
ease the pain of your voice!)
QUINN: Momma, high. Momma, high. (Q points to the bucket swings,
telling me he wants to go high.)
Quinn and I walk over to the swings. Emmett follows. I turn
my back to Emmett and try to place Q into the swing. Emmett tugs on my arm and
continues to talk, making it very difficult for me to lift Q.
EMMETT: I’m might be getting a dog.
ME: That’s really nice, Emmett, but please don’t pull on my arm,
okay? (And stop talking or I’m going to
ram a piece of tanbark into my eye!)
EMMETT: I can go high, too. Wanna see how high I can jump? (He jumps
into the air several times.)
EMMETT: Did you see that?
ME: Yes, that was very high. (Where
the hell is your mother? Is that her on the cell phone? Maybe I should ram this
tanbark into HER eye!)
QUINN: Bus?
That’s Quinn’s way of asking me to sing “Wheels on the Bus.”
I oblige and begin to sing as I push him higher in the air. At this point,
Emmett desperately launches into a monologue so long and fast that I can’t keep
up with him. No pauses, no punctuation, no taking a breath – just lots and lots
of words.
EMMETT:
Sometimes-when-Chris-comes-over-we-eat-cookies-my-bedtime-is-eightoclock-but-sometimes-I-stay-up-later-did-you-know-that-I-rode-a-train-once-Chris-has-a-really-awesome-truck-but-I-got-an-even-better-truck-for-my-birthday-my-dad-might-let-me-get-a-dog-did-you-know-that-I-already-know-how-to-ride-a-skateboard?*
He pauses briefly while I stare at him in horrified silence.
EMMETT: Antonio always wears
Hawaiian shirts.
Then my brain explodes.
*Or something long and
rambling like that.