Friday, April 23, 2010

When I was a baby, I was walking on a volcano...

So began a story that Katie was telling me in the car on the way home from school today.

When I was a baby, I was walking on a volcano and I saw a bunch of BAD guys on a TRAIN...

The story continued for several minutes and involved a baby bad guy (that she kind of knew) eating people (I don't remember if he was eating the bad people or the good people) who then ate her but spit her out just in time before she was "crunched".

I love that my child can talk.  I even love that she can talk a lot, and fairly well.  There are, however, some times when I wish, just a little bit, that she wouldn't talk quite so much.  From the moment I pick her up at daycare until the moment the door closes to her bedroom at night (and sometimes not even then), her mouth is running a mile a minute.  It wouldn't be quite so bad if she were talking and I could just listen. No, normally she requires full participation and will repeat herself endlessly (and increasingly loudly) if you don't respond in the appropriate places.  This, again, wouldn't be so bad.  It would be kind of nice to have a conversation.  But, usually she is telling me stories or talking about things that "happened" that don't, quite, make sense.  How, exactly, do I respond, interestedly, to the story above?  "Oh, that's really interesting Katie!" gets really old after a few thousand repetitions. Usually when I ask her to tell me about her day, she cheerfully responds, "I don't know!" and proceeds with the latest edition of sagas with Katie. 

After a long day at school when I talk to many people and listen to many people talk, a few minutes quiet, on occasion, on the drive home would be nice.

Audio books are my friend.  We'll talk about her day in another year or so.

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