Sir Chatsalot is
2 and a half years old, has
brown hair,
brown eyes, weighs about
30 pounds and is about
3 feet tall. Ever since he found his voice he has
used it. And
used it. And
used it. It really is a sweet voice. He seems to have inherited his mother's gift of
gab, which is great because who better to talk to than someone who
likes to talk to me! When in his company,
silence should be a cause for concern. His location can be easily pinpointed, just listen for the constant
chattering. Even alone, he finds
comfort in his own voice. Then there are times when his
silence is desired. Is there a
sleeping baby nearby? Is there someone to sneak up on and
surprise? Is there a game of hide-and-go-seek to be played? Are we in
church surrounded by people who came to actually
listen to and participate in the service? Such was the case this morning.
Sir Chatsalot wanted to have conversations with us, ask us
questions, play with B, argue with B, all in his
normal speaking decibel. Which, if you have ever had the pleasure of being in
Sir Chatsalot's company, you will know is louder than most people speak. Dad had to take him outside after a few
dirty looks were cast in our direction. No, we were not the only family in there with
young children. I heard crying and complaining and
giggling. All of which never bother us, parents of
noise producing children. After mass was complete, we gathered our belongings and
munchkins, and began shuffling out into the aisle. A little
tap on the shoulder got my attention and I hear, "You have quite an
active bunch! Perhaps you should sit in the
back next time." I did not respond to this woman, I only nodded politely and
smiled. As we were walking out of the church, I did think about how
blessed I am to have a
2 year old with such
great language skills and his great need to talk won't keep us from the
front of the church. Although, perhaps we could start practicing his
church voice.