Lately I've begun to notice the fact our daughter apparently revels in the sound of her own voice. It has seemed that her entire day is filled with chatter, whether to an audience or not. Even bed-time typically begins with her either reading aloud to herself (to which we often put a stop and which, also, has prompted me to insist she never have a flashlight in her room when she is old enough to read under the covers - which she actually does in the mornings while she waits for us to retrieve her from her room). When the books are taken away and she is firmly instructed to go to bed, we can still hear her mumbling to herself for another half hour or so.
That girl loves to talk.
I don't know where she gets it from. (Insert sarcasm alert here.)
Unfortunately, to this pregnant momma who has found herself with increasing headaches in the evenings, the lovely sound of my two-year-old's voice can get a bit wearing. Especially when it's the voice that continually repeats, "Mommy, mommy, mommy . . ." until she receives her desired response.
Just such a time occurred this evening as we headed for a family outing to the local library. After a few complaints of something or other her brother was doing in the backseat, and some talking over her father and I who were having a discussion in the front seat, I finally answered the repeated summons with a frustrated, "What, Micaiah?!"
To which she replied, "I like the clouds."
Not used to this kind of innocent proclamation in one of these oft-aggravating strings of nonsense, I was prompted to stop, glance out my own window at the beautiful puffs of white contrasted against the soft blue and note, "Yes, they are very pretty. Do you see the sun shining through them?"
"[Gasp!] Yeah! I do!"
Thus, she began to enumerate for us all the clouds out her window, including the dragon she saw. But this time, I didn't mind.
I'm not sure I will ever tire of listening to our children marvel at God's creation. And neither, I'm sure, will He.