I’ve had quiet children; however they have yet to remain quiet. The girls virtually came out talking, and they have not neglected their sibling duties of instructing their younger brothers in the finer points of eliminating silence. Believe me, there is no such thing as an “awkward silence” in my house.
Wife’s grandmother from out of state had come into town for a visit; and my boys set to work at entertaining her. She was accosted with drawing after drawing, all the while #5 kept up a running commentary with #6 parroting him. #5 drew her attention to either his paper or that of his brother’s, illuminating the hidden figures that seemed to be somewhere behind the dark storm cloud of scribbles.
At one point they where waiting for #6 to finish his drawing and there was nearly an awkward silence, but then #5 piped in an observation to his great grandmother, “Yo’r arms are squooshy.”
He could have stopped there. I would have been happy if he had. My pride would have been happy. But it was like the start of a flashflood, there was no stopping him at that point.
He continued, “Yah, and yo’r skin is soft too. And yo’r skinny. But you don’t have any money ‘causes yo’r weel old.” And he nodded his head at her with all the authority of a knowledgeable four year old. He was quite undisputable.
Further observation was halted by the arrival of #6 and his latest thunderhead.
I actually had to admire the little boy. If I had said anything like that, Wife’s grandmother would have been offended, and I would have received and ear full from Wife well into the next week. #5 insults her age and financial security, and he gets chuckles and a kiss.
While the children can’t get away with all the noises they make, grandmothers certainly have a weakness for their blunt observations.