It truly amazes me how loud my kids are. They are so little yet so loud. I mean, really, truly loud. I mean, really truly most of the time. It never ends. Unless they are engulfed in a TV or Nintendo DS induced coma, they are loud.
I have tried to measure this phenomenon. The ratio of loud to body mass index is off the charts. It’s like solving for the true value of Pi (not that round of stuff). It could very well be man’s greatest mystery.
I’m sure it’s perfectly normal, I’m sure every kid is like that. I’m sure I was like that, as well as you. But, really, how? How is it possible?
From the minute they wake up to the last gasp before bed. I ask them to keep quiet because mommy is sleeping. That lasts for 28 seconds. I ask them when I’m on the phone. That lasts 31 seconds. They truly forget. I don’t think it’s a malicious attempt at getting attention or at irking me. They are just loud, by nature. Like a pack of wild dogs.
Sometimes, like in the bathroom, I feel my eardrums being demented. I have to cover my ears. It’s like a sonic boom, warping my brain. It could be a weapon vs. terror. Have one kid in a bathroom on every plane, then pipe the sound in if something is going down. Problem solved.
The only time they are not really loud and not entranced is when they are trying to hide from me or do something they should not be doing. With the hiding, they forget, too, though…and start making noise so I find them after 33 seconds. Doing something naughty…that’s pretty solid silence.
Am I crazy here? Does anyone know how this is possible? I, and my sanity, would just love to find out.