I don’t mean that in a negative way. I mean that you are four years old, and a source of constant amusement, and also a source of constant chatter. I answer your questions or help you find the answers as best as I can, but, sometimes it is exhausting. It isn’t a bad thing, it just IS.
I truly realized it this weekend. You and your father are away, with your grandmother, and the silence in the house is deafening. The dog doesn’t ask me if she can watch tv, have a treat, go outside, go downstairs, what’s that thing? Who’s that guy? The laundry doesn’t re-arrange itself after I’ve folded it, and I don’t have to give it warnings about its behaviour or remind it for the umpteenth time to say “please”.
I love it, the constant waves of your voice, watching your mind work with each small interaction, watching you put 2 and 2 together because of an answer I’ve given you. I love the answers you give back, your logic, the suppressed smiles your father and I exchange when you’re being cheeky. I wish I could capture every moment but I can’t, when I’m in it, I can just tread water and be carried along on the waves.
Sometimes it takes silence to lend contrast to how awesome the noise is.