My Girl the Chatterbox

My girl is such a good talker, if I do say so myself. She had an eagerness to vocalise well before she could use actual words, frequently jabbering away to us in a language

known only to herself. It seemed amazing to us how quickly she picked up animal sounds, saying “quack quack” to an inanimate duck, “moo” to a cartoon cow and “roar” to the lion in our back yard; well before she turned one. Like all responsible parents, we watched on in the pub as she counted to six with beer mats at around 14 months old, while around four months later she’d stumble her way to 10 (often missing the number seven). At two she can string five/six-word sentences together and is so clear in instructing us to do whatever the heck she wants us to do; bossy boots that she is.

All the above is fantastic, and I’m so proud of her for it, but sometimes I can’t help but wish she would just be quiet; if only for five minutes. I’ll be sat, hungover to high heaven after a rare night out (kids, eh?), or weary after a bout of insomnia; and I’ll be asked, no, commanded, to do all manner of thankless tasks. From sitting on the step with the toy of the day to marching along in time with Ants Go Marching, the activities vary; but one things for sure, I won't be sitting down. If I don’t do something quick enough, she gives the most ear-splitting shriek as she shouts “daddy!” On any other day I welcome speaking with her, love it even, although doing nothing but does get a little draining, and being on my own with her for a full day can tire me out more than being at work!

Then there’s bedtime. Since she’s been able to speak or, more accurately, been able to coherently think for herself and bring her thoughts to life, the bedtime routine has gotten that bit more difficult, frustrating, bothersome; you pick the adjective. Getting her to sleep has taken three times as long in the past few months, and she’ll spend a good chunk of time talking to her teddies before she lies down. What’s more, as I finally get her to lie down, a select nursery rhyme will pop into her head, and she’ll sit, bolt upright to give me a rendition, followed by at least five more.

As she got close to hitting the Terrible Twos, repetition became a big, often grating, part of her daily repertoire. She’ll ask: “what’re you doing now?” at least 30 times a day, regularly repeating the question four or five times in the space of 30 seconds! She'll respond to any query with "what?" a minimum of five times before answering; despite us knowing full well that she's heard. There's been numerous times that she'll just stop in the middle of the street to perform Heads, Shoulders, Knees & Toes at a plethora of speeds, making any journey twice as long.

It must be said that at times she can't win however, as often we'll seek out conversation with her, and it's probably more annoying when we're ignored in favour of whatever is on TV. I’ll stand there asking her something over and over, only to get blanket silence until I put the show on pause. On that note, discipline is very hard as she unquestionably has one over me. She’ll destroy something and I’ll try my best to stay stern, only for her to ask if she can help me to put it in the bin, singing the trash song of her favourite cartoon; at which I can’t help but smile.

By Calum Dewsbury