My Chatterbox

I crawl into my bed, fluff the blankets, snuggle into the blankets – when suddenly my bed shakes and bounces me up as my 16 year old son leaps from the door onto the bed in excitement. He’s just made a list of all his recommendations for “must-see” movies. He excitedly rambles on about each movie and why it’s on his list. I forgot how tired I was as I join in his excitement and we laugh and chat on my bed.
Throughout the years, I’ve listened when I thought my ears would fall off and my brain would go numb from hearing things I care nothing about. Believe me, when I tell you I have listened to hours upon hours of talk about Yu-Gi-Oh! Comic Book Heroes and Villains, and let’s not forget the Zombies.
I’ve been given random “pop” quizzes to test whether I was “really” listening or whether I was “pretending” to listen by nodding my head at appropriate times but thinking about my grocery list.
“List for me which Superheroes are DC and which are Marvel?”
“Did Jack Nicholson or Heath Ledger make a better Joker? And Why?”
“What is the best rout of escape from our house in a Zombie apocalypse?”
 “What is the best weapon to use in against Zombies?”
Although my test scores don’t really reflect my true intelligence, the grades reflect way more than those I received in college because instead of an “A” on a report card, I’m rewarded with a teenager who hops on my bed in excitement and tells me about his world.
THE CHATTERBOX
Ann Taylor
(Revised by me)
From morning till night it was Dre’s delight
To chatter and talk without stopping:
There was not a day but he rattled away,
Like water for ever a-dropping.
 
No matter at all if the subjects were small,
Or not worth the trouble of saying,
‘Twas equal to him, he would talking prefer
To working, or reading, or playing.

 

 

 

 

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