A Mommy Story

The morning drive to take the girls to summer camp can be monotonous at times, but it’s never quiet. The running family joke is that after spending so much money on speech therapy to get Miranda to talk as a toddler, we now wish there was therapy to keep her quiet. 

It’s not that I’m some mean parent who doesn’t want to hear what’s on her child’s mind. I enjoy conversations I have with both girls. The problem is that whenever there is any silence, Mira feels compelled to fill it with the sound of her own voice. And on morning drives, as we’re fighting traffic and things are going slowly, her mind goes into overdrive throwing out random thoughts at a pace that makes even my ADD-mind dizzy.

A typical day in the car:

“Mommy?” (You know it’s going to be something random when she starts with this and keeps repeating it until I respond.)

“Yes, Mira?”

“When can we go camping?”

“I don’t know, Mira. But maybe we can try camping in our backyard first.”

“But we shouldn’t camp in the STREET, ’cause that’d be dangerous!” (laugh at her own joke)

“You’re right, that would not be safe, sweetie.”

Pause.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, Mira?”

“I think I want a pink car when I grow up. A BRIGHT pink car!”

“Pink? That’s fine, you can have whatever you want as long as you have a good job to afford it.”

“Oh, I will, mommy. I’m gonna deliver flowers to people. Or maybe be an animal doctor.”

“Hmmm. I’d vote for veterinarian. Better chance at affording that pink car.”

“Mommy?” (no pause this time, but clearly signaling a change in topic)

“What, Mira?”

“Cordy started losing her baby teeth at five, but I’m five and haven’t lost any yet.”

“She did, but everyone loses baby teeth at different times. You’ll lose yours when your adult teeth are ready.” (I begin discussing the way teeth grow, but get cut off)

“Oh! You know what, Mommy?”

Sigh. “What, Mira?”

“That tree over there has green leaves, but the one next to it has flowers and leaves!”

“You’re right, because they’re different types of trees.”

“And mommy? Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I think Cosmo likes his rope toy. He REALLY chews it.”

“Mira, what does that have to do with ANYTHING you’ve just said?”

(thinks for a moment) “I don’t know. He just really loves to chew his rope toy!”

“And mommy? What would happen if there was no gravity?…”

And it just keeps going and going.

It’s funny, but exhausting. Asking for a little silence gives me only a moment of quiet, while she builds up new topics in her head that will explode out a minute later.

I’m thinking the CIA should investigate this technique for getting captured spies to talk. Enduring this kind of random would make anyone crack.