Wednesday, November 18, 2009

I have a dear friend who has an amazing daughter. She is funny, determined and smart as a whip. And for some reason that hasn't been fully explained yet, she will not talk in public. Or around people she does not know. They are working hard on getting to the bottom of it but in the meantime whenever my friend goes out in public she is accompanied by a silent five year old.

I am trying very hard not be jealous.

While I understand how challenging it would be to try and get into the mind of a five year old and help her communicate there is a very small part of me that wants to know how to get my child to stop talking All.The.Blessed.Time.

Case in point.

A few weeks ago I had to run some errands with Sprout while Spud was in school. This is a short excerpt of the running conversation we had for 2.5 hours.

Sprout:(as he asked in every single store we went into) Mommy, why are we in here? Why this one? Is this Canadian Tire? What do you need here mommy?

HG: Mommy is looking for peat moss for her garden. They didn't have any at Rona or at Home Depot so we are looking here.

Sprout: Oh right. Peat moss. (To random stranger) Mommy is looking for peat moss. (To the air as loud as he can) Peat moss; where are you? Peeeaaaatttt mmmmmooooosssss.

HG: Sprout we use our inside voices inside.

Sprout: that's right. Sorry Mommy. (Whispering) have you found the peat moss yet? Do you know where the peat moss is? Does this store have peat moss? What are you going to do with the peat moss? Peat moss; where are you?

HG: I found it.

Sprout: You found the peat moss? Is that the peat moss? Good job mommy. Good for finding the peat moss. What are you going to do with the peat moss? Are you putting it in the cart with me? Hello peat moss! That's a lot of peat moss. Look, it is squishing me. Oh no, I am squish-ed. Oh, thank-you mommy for moving the peat moss. It was squishing me. What are we doing now? Are we paying the peat moss? Then we are we going? Can I help you with the peat moss at the house? (To another random stranger) Look, mommy got peat moss. They didn't have any at Rona, or at Home Depot, so we had to come here, what is this store again mommy?

HG: Canadian Tire

Sprout: That's right. We had to come to Canadian Tire to get peat moss. Look at all the peat moss my mommy got. (Turning to the other random stranger who is cursing his lack of choice of lines) Mommy got peat moss. Do you have peat moss? Look at all the nice peat moss.

And on. And on. And on.

I know that when they are teens they will lose their ability to speak in sentences and will mainly grunt and so I should be treasuring these days of ALL THE TALKING but I must confess, sometimes I do long for selective mutism. Or at least selective hearing.

6 comments:

Knittinchick said...

Bwah hah hah!!!! It's seriously hard to believe that such a small being can come up with so many words and discussion points about EVERYTHING!

This Heavenly Life said...

Hehe :) I love those days though, because at least when my daughter is talking everyone's ears off, she's not throwing a fit. Infinitely preferable.

Nicole said...

Oh, haha! I love it!

delucchi family said...

I have a 4 year old who is doing the same and much as I love her to bits, it is driving me NUTS!!!
Great post, so true to home, love Jules
xxxx
http://delucchifamilytreasures.blogspot.com/

Tez said...

my niece had an anxiety type disorder called "selective mutism".
Sounds like what your friend's daughter has. Maybe you can mention it to her, I know we searched for years for a solution and tried so many strategies with my niece before someone said "selective mutism".
My niece is now a happy, lovely, 15 year old who does talk when it is needed, though she does have a more reserved personality in general so she's not terribly chatty. At least now she consistently speaks for herself. I remember when she was 8 and ordered her own ice cream cone at dairy queen, it was a tearful moment.

a Tonggu Momma said...

I've probably already told you this before, but once I lost it in the grocery store after just such a day. I barked, "Tongginator! Momma wants you to talk without making any noise. That? Is called THINKING." And everyone within a twenty foot radius of us burst into laughter.