Logorrhea for Eternity
Cook, in the early days of our relationship, charmed me with a story of how yakkety he was as a child. Apparently he used to stall bedtime by inviting his parents to sit at the foot of his bed "to have a nice chat." Aww. He's still seriously yakkety, in his weird introverted way.
Dutch, however, makes him look taciturn. She also makes him taciturn because she never stops talking long enough for anybody else to get a word in edgewise. Cook and I are pretty fried after this quarter of school, and we spent this morning lying around reading books and not-listening to Dutch while she carried on a continual monologue. We're often able to get away with using "Mmhmm," or "Hm?" or "Ah..." for a while, but somehow after four or five hours, even when virtually no participation is required of you, it starts to feel like you're being bludgeoned with a stick.
But we had a nice day. Dutch and I went downtown to see the big tree in Pioneer Courthouse Square (but mostly just to interrupt the flow of words), and ran into the end of Tuba Christmas. Dutch almost got crushed* by a mob swarming the hapless Starbucks lady giving out free samples, but we did score a tiny free cup of cocoa. Dutch bought another Playmobil figure. We went to the library. Dutch loudly pointed out homeless people to me and said wistfully "I wish nobody was homeless."** We went to the mall so I could pee, and Dutch played on the Reactrix, her favorite thing in downtown Portland. Then we went home. Dutch was great the whole time, and then she spent the rest of the day talking about our adventures and narrating an epic Playmobil drama including the motley assortment of figures she's collected so far (two zookeepers, one truck, a seal, a giraffe, two fairies, a horse, a cat, two rabbits, an equestrienne, a wheelbarrow, a bucket, three flowers, etc.).
I guess the point of this boring travelogue is that our free time tends to be framed by Dutch's constant narratives/monologues/conversation. It just never ever stops. Sometimes I think what I'd like most to steal from my old pre-parenting life (other than to be able to sleep past 7 AM) is the option of silence.
* Okay, not exactly crushed, but I did have to do some serious football-style blocking in order to extract her from the scrum.
** Later on we determined that she thinks there are 12 homeless people in the world.
Dutch, however, makes him look taciturn. She also makes him taciturn because she never stops talking long enough for anybody else to get a word in edgewise. Cook and I are pretty fried after this quarter of school, and we spent this morning lying around reading books and not-listening to Dutch while she carried on a continual monologue. We're often able to get away with using "Mmhmm," or "Hm?" or "Ah..." for a while, but somehow after four or five hours, even when virtually no participation is required of you, it starts to feel like you're being bludgeoned with a stick.
But we had a nice day. Dutch and I went downtown to see the big tree in Pioneer Courthouse Square (but mostly just to interrupt the flow of words), and ran into the end of Tuba Christmas. Dutch almost got crushed* by a mob swarming the hapless Starbucks lady giving out free samples, but we did score a tiny free cup of cocoa. Dutch bought another Playmobil figure. We went to the library. Dutch loudly pointed out homeless people to me and said wistfully "I wish nobody was homeless."** We went to the mall so I could pee, and Dutch played on the Reactrix, her favorite thing in downtown Portland. Then we went home. Dutch was great the whole time, and then she spent the rest of the day talking about our adventures and narrating an epic Playmobil drama including the motley assortment of figures she's collected so far (two zookeepers, one truck, a seal, a giraffe, two fairies, a horse, a cat, two rabbits, an equestrienne, a wheelbarrow, a bucket, three flowers, etc.).
I guess the point of this boring travelogue is that our free time tends to be framed by Dutch's constant narratives/monologues/conversation. It just never ever stops. Sometimes I think what I'd like most to steal from my old pre-parenting life (other than to be able to sleep past 7 AM) is the option of silence.
* Okay, not exactly crushed, but I did have to do some serious football-style blocking in order to extract her from the scrum.
** Later on we determined that she thinks there are 12 homeless people in the world.
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