My son

Nathaniel woke up this morning while I was in the middle of reading a student’s paper draft.  Asking Nathaniel to stop talking (even if only for two minutes) is like asking Niagara Falls to take a break.  If he doesn’t talk to you he’ll talk to the cats, to his stuffed animal, or even, if pressed, to himself.  And by the time he’s done with that, he’ll forget that he’s not supposed to talk to you, so you’re back to Square One.  He narrates his life everywhere he goes.  If we walk to school, our entire journey is accompanied by the music of his soliloquies.  Talking is not a problem for this one.  Listening, on the other hand . . .


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2 Responses to My son

  1. Mother of the bride says:

    You gotta love him!

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