Talkative

I figured out why my kids talk so much and so early.  Not sure why it didn't occur to me before.

Now that I have a toddler, I spend a lot of time with others who also have them.  And I've noticed that I differ from other moms in one important way:  I talk to my kid.  A lot.  A way lot!

Most moms talk to their babies, but after some observation, I'm convinced that I go overboard.  One mom tells her son to sit.  I tell my daughter to climb carefully into the green chair.  Another mom tells her little girl that it's time to go.  I explain where we're going, how we'll get there, and what we'll do when we arrive.

Obviously, my kids think it's very normal to verbalize every little thing, and perhaps they even think it's important to include as much detail as possible.  They also probably have some genetic tendency to run at the mouth, and would have obtained that from both sides, as my husband is verbose even by my standards.

Perhaps you think it sounds quaint - all the descriptions we trade with each other, all the little baby-talk conversations we have.  Maybe you wonder if it prepares them for a life of literary interest or even a vocation in writing.

I haven't raised one to adulthood yet, but I can assure you of one outcome:  parental insanity.  When you teach your child to talk about absolutely anything, that's exactly what you'll get.  Teen stays up late into the night telling me all about the girl at school who stole her pencil; Tween talks all the livelong day about everything and nothing.  Toddler, in her endearing baby accent, talks about what Toddler wants, what Toddler doesn't want, how Toddler feels, and more about what Toddler wants.  And she talks to her toys.  And sings.  Constantly.  By the time the evening rolls around, my ears are ready for a break.  Who am I kidding?  By the time noon rolls around!

The truly ironic thing is that I value peace and quiet very highly.  I rarely work with music on; I can't converse with the TV playing in the background.  My favorite moment of the day is that half-second at bedtime just after I turn out the light when all the world is dark and silent.

Why, oh why, did I start down this road of teaching my kids to talk by example?

Books as First Friends

When books are your friends, the written word takes on special importance.  Books always say what they mean, and they generally say it well.  Books are eloquent in ways a verbal communicator can not be.  Sentences are carefully measured; words are well chosen; awkward pauses are nonexistent.  Y'know?  (See what I mean?)

A bookworm tends to desire to relate in like manner.  Spoken word is mere communication; written word is expression.  Early friends like C.S. Lewis and Louisa May Alcott define conversation as much as the friends on the baseball diamond or at the sleepover do.  Bookworms, I suspect, are blogworms, as well, choosing written expression as their best expression of self.

My husband and I had a discussion the other day.  He struggles with the fact that I take his words very literally.  He will occasionally choose a word that doesn't fit well with the topic he is discussing.   Maybe he'll say taunt instead of taut, or invoke rather than encroach.   When I appear perplexed, he misconstrues my confusion as ridicule.  It has always been very difficult to convince him otherwise.  As a lifelong reader, I enjoy a larger vocabulary than he does.  As a man whose bread and butter is earned from verbal expression, this pleases as well as intimidates him.  I understand, then, his natural conclusion that I'm laughing at him.

During our conversation, insight finally sparked. I am a person of the written word.  Phrases are rarely misspoken in my native tongue.  I am not a better verbal communicator, as he suspected, but a worse one.  My look is one of genuine misinterpretation.  It takes time for me to translate into my book-learned language.  Others, whose first friends played kickball and dollhouse, talked and laughed and joked in good, honest verbal vernacular.

The explanation helped him understand.  It also helped me to pinpoint an area of growth I've struggled with for a long while.  Good communication is not always precise and standardized. In fact, sometimes the best conversation is ragged and random.