The colour blue makes me …. well insane actually ….

Remember when you used to want your child to speak?   You would sit there expectantly and try to encourage them to say a word or make a sound?

Well, at some point that passes.  It does not pass in a pleasant way.  It passes like the thud of a dead body falling from the third floor.

One day whilst driving home from school with your brood, you realise that you would give anything for them just to shut the hell up – so you can get a chance to think.

You  consider opening the windows to allow too much brisk wind that will whip against their faces making it impossible for them to have enough air to form words.

You consider turning the radio up really loud.

You consider opening the door and throwing yourself into on-coming traffic.

You consider when will you be able to afford an au pair to make this trip on your behalf.

The constant chatter at the loudest setting soon stops being endearing.  It pushes you to the place where you start reconsidering why you took time off work to fetch them, and maybe next time will just leave them at school with bus fare to get home.

A 12 minute car drive home leaves you frazzled and shaking and wondering when is it too early to start on the wine.

Georgia has a serious case of verbal diarrhea.  I really wish I could tell you it is quite cute to hear her high-pitched little voice rattling off from the time I put my arse into the driver’s seat to the time I speed into the school car parking lot.

Really I wish I could.

This morning Georgia was talking – non-stop – from the time we left home, 07h35, until I dropped Connor off at school 07h52, until I dropped her off at her school 08h08 and she was telling me how much she liked the colour blue.

Nothing else.  Just how much she liked the colour blue.  You really need to like blue a whole lot to talk about it at that pace, pitch and with that much fervour.

I could have named all the blues in the pantone colour guide by then – but Georgia was still going hell-bent for leather about her liking of blue.

I fell out of the car, opened her door, and she was still telling me about the colour blue.  I kissed her good-bye, told her I loved her <I had to talk loud as she was still talking about blue ….> I aimed her to the school door, gave her a slight little shove to increase momentum ..and then I got back in my car.

She was still talking about the colour blue – or talking, I no longer could hear her.  Never have I been so thankful for a car window that rolls up to protect me from the elements.

And you wonder why I drink so much … FFS ….. I really wish I could tell you that today was the only day this occurs … trust me there will be something else tonight … it might even be a bit more on the colour blue ……

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5 Comments

  1. This posts had me chortling, very funny. well written.

    Reply
  2. Kiki

     /  December 8, 2011

    My little girl of 2 and a half ONLY drives me crazy with her incessant chatting and I want, whats that, mom, mom, mom when we are in Woolies. I forget why I am there what I have to buy, I have to go back to aisles I have been to because of forgotten items. She frazzles my brain so I know the feeling. I am scared how she is going to be at Georgias age

    Reply
  3. Alice

     /  December 8, 2011

    Bless her little BLUE cotton socks. I’m most fascinated and intrigued to know her as she gets older. Her little idiosycracies are a delight and refreshing (for me who see’s her for two minutes at a time clearly). She’s bound to make a super interesting adult. I love her spunk and individuality. I mean…. look at her mom FFS!!! Love you guys loads! xxxx

    Reply
  4. Charne

     /  December 8, 2011

    Shame chick!! Apparently, I used to be Georgia!! So, I am sure my mom is hoping that Emily is the exact same so I get payback!

    Reply
  5. That’s a good one! I was like you…couldn’t wait for them to start talking – then…. can’t wait for them to zip it up. (being polite)… and when they are teenagers $%^&*

    Reply

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