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In which I reflect on communication and saying it best without words

My son is the most vocal member of our family. He doesn’t say a word.

Don’t get me wrong. My daughter can talk the hind leg off a donkey and her incessant need to know why is the reason for my overwhelming insanity and my excessive pride. My husband is a talker (See: not your typical, average guy for which I’m extremely grateful). He’s been known to hold a conversation with me long after I’ve stopped listening.

I myself like to talk, but I also love long, delicious periods of blissful silence in which I can reflect upon my inner dreams and perhaps come up with a coherent idea or two to add to my writing repertoire (See: tame the muses and make them actually behave).

My son does not seem to have any desire for long periods of silence (See: not quite my genetic twin after all). He loves to chatter and barring that, he loves to express himself at the top of his lungs – regardless of how close one’s ears are to ground zero (See: powerful set of lungs).

If he doesn’t grow up to be the world’s greatest orator, he is going to be an opera singer. Or a metalhead. (See: one of the very few career choices his parents will adamantly veto)

The thing is, most of what comes out of his mouth is not at all understandable (See: no language known to man). Oh he’s expressive, so I can usually tell what he wants by how high the pitch is or how wild his arm movements get.

My guess though, is that he won’t start talking until he’s good and ready and he will more than likely start in full, run-on sentences.

What a mouth on that kid.

I realize I’ve done a good job of tuning him out lately. (See: only so much noise and screaming a mom can handle) From the moment he wakes up in the morning, until he goes to bed at night (See: sometimes not even then as I have heard him chattering away in his sleep many evenings) he doesn’t stop vocalizing. He screams when he realizes the door is closed and he can’t get out without my help. He doesn’t even have to get out of bed to do that and man is that annoying when I can’t go in and give him hugs and kisses in the morning because he’s having a meltdown.

He screeches at his sister, he yells at the cat. He wails when the cheesestick is not in his hand the moment I take it out of the drawer in the fridge. He whines and throws himself to the floor when I tell him he can’t have the fifth cup of milk that day because–for the love of all that is holy–he NEEDS water for a change.

I find myself wondering sometimes if that is all God hears from me in the midst of my daily living. Sure, He can figure out pretty quickly just what exactly is bothering me and how exactly I want it fixed. Still, is whining and screaming and yelling all He hears as I go through my routine. I may not speak things vocally, but is my mind full of wailings, complaints, tantrums, and wordless speeches designed to grate on the ears of anyone listening?

You know, I stand corrected. My son does have small, blessed moments of time in which his methods of communication (See: inneffective tantrums to communicate his wants or needs). He’s a cuddler. When he’s beyond tired and the lights in the room are dimmed and a warm blanket covers us both, he will sit still and be silent.

I cherish those moments. I also pray for the day when he starts to use some real words. 🙂

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