The thing about parenthood is that many of us are duped into thinking our children will be different (in a better way, mind you) than other people's children. And while that may be true, more often than not, all children are pretty much the same.
As a teacher, I know this.
And as a teacher, I can tell you that I repeat myself constantly.
And as a parent, I can tell you that I repeat myself constantly.
Were you listening to me when I said that I repeat myself constantly?
While surely, you would think that constant repetition would cause death, of the slow and painful kind, I can assure you that it does not.
At least, I think it doesn't, because I am sitting here writing this blog post.
Maybe it's just REEEEAAALLLYYYY SLOW. And painful.
But I can tell with assuredness that repeating yourself will surely drive you crazy. You will repeat things to yourself often, mutter obscenities under your breath, and feel the need to repeat yourself to adults in frightening ways.
You find yourself using different vocal intonations, facial expressions, hand gestures (of the non-obscene kind for the minor set) and physical shenanigans, just to get your point across the FIRST time.
And then, you just give up.
You just keep saying the same thing, over and over, like a damned scratched LP.
It's enough to drive the sanest person nuts.
The repetition is not limited to the under 18 crowd, either. I am sure that there are several, special adult loved ones that require a repeat performance of what you just said before they even register that someone is speaking to them. Do I hear an AMEN, people?
If you think you can't repeat yourself one more time before you literally crack up, then you should try being a teacher. And then come home to school aged kids. And auditory impaired adults.
Yeah, good times.
So, let me just confess that there are days I wish I had a choice.
Because my first choice would be speech recognition and on command compliance of spoken request.
No, I am not taking prescription medication, but it is nice to dream, isn't it?
And for the record, I think there I times when I would choose death.
Going crazy ain't so much fun, you know?
Hey y'all, when I end up in the funny farm in my very own padded room, will one of you make sure that my straightjacket is nice and snug so I don't pull out my hair? Thanks!
Hey? Did you hear what I just said?