I don’t know what it is about the words “
Please be quiet” or “
Quietly please, so-and-so is sleeping” But it releases within my child a demon; a noise making demon of untold decimal proportions. Suddenly there is dire need for every faucet to be turned on; every drawer and cupboard slammed, twice. Noah is always ready to rise to the occasion. He somehow manages to whisper at a yelling volume while repeating himself continually. No quiet time is complete without a song *sigh. Tasks that were once completed seamlessly now required an audible narration of its progress. My usually graceful (sometimes graceful) child magically transforms to an all thumbs baby giraffe, clanking through the home, crashing into walls, falling out of chairs, dropping dishes. My reluctant little helper instantaneously feels the need to rearrange cabinets, rustle through silverware, dump out Legos, cause damn it, it’s cleaning time. There is no “
SSSSSHHHHHH!!!” stifling enough to shush that child, no angry eyes fierce enough, no threatening gesture intimidating enough , for it is too late, the demon is upon us. Next time I’ll try duct tape…
