|A rare moment of silence.|
I have a kid who talks A LOT. This evening he brought his newly constructed Lego rocket to dinner and immediately started describing all the cool things it could do, using every superlative in his vocabulary . . . and even some made-up superlatives, like “bikquazillion.” He was still talking when his sisters finished eating and left the table. He was still talking when Abu Halen finished eating and left the table. He was still talking as I inwardly cursed myself for being the slowest eater in the family.
Once, when he was four, he talked for twenty minutes straight about Chihuahuas: “Chihuahuas aren’t dogs. They’re animals. And they can run 30-50 fast. And they can jump so high. What happens to Chihuahuas when they’re old womans? You know what? If a Chihuahua chases you in the wilderness, you better get outta there, because Chihuahuas can kill humans so so so so fast. [Here he slurps back the saliva that has started out the corner of his mouth because he hasn’t yet paused long enough to swallow.] And Chihuahuas are the most dangerous animals, because they can sneak behind things like rocks and curtains and big houses and fences and little-small animals and desks and stuff. . . .”
Even if I had wanted to interject into that conversation, I couldn’t have, so awestruck was I at how he could go on and on about a dog he had never even seen in real life (obviously). Eventually I had to command him to stop. We needed peace. One can stand only so many Chuihuahua facts before one’s brain starts to deteriorate.