All you do to me is talk, talk

Geez that new Chipmunks movie gave me a splitting headache. Way too much helium-fuelled squeaking. I’m not so good with endless chatter at the best of times. Let alone when it’s high-pitched. I’ve only got about two hours of talk in me during any 24-hour period*. A bit more if I’ve been drinking. Then I go mute. Watch me at dinner parties, I’m a blast after 10pm. My idea of bliss is driving from Sydney to the Gold Coast by myself and only saying the words “fish and chips please” in the whole 10 hours. Really, I did it once. Loved every minute. The car would have to be one of my least favourite places to talk. It drives Husband crazy, having to play endless I Spy and 20 Questions with the Sprogs on car trips while I gaze out the window. Sprog 1 loves a game – or 500,000 – of 20 Questions, but she generally takes after me in the talking stakes. On the first day of fancy camp, a parent asked if she was excited. I said, “Probably, on the inside.” Occasionally, when she decides to speak, the oddest things come out. Like yesterday, when she told me her finger was hurting because she stood on it. Yes, she agreed, it was very tricky to stand on her own finger. So how’d she do it? Well, she was pretending to be a monkey. No, it wasn’t a game at camp. She just wanted to see how fast she could run along the ground while pretending to be a monkey. And her feet were faster than her hands. She’s quite the character underneath that steely facade. Sprog 2, on the other hand, loves a chat. It’s usually stream of consciousness stuff – which toy is the cutest, how cool her new thongs are, begging for a kitten when she’s 16, telling me her dolly swims “gooder” than her, oh, and would I like to see how much money is in her owl purse? Feeling a little drained by the bombardment yesterday, I answered “no, I wouldn’t” to the amount-of-money-in-the-owl-purse question. Fortunately/unfortunately she didn’t hear me and said: “What did you say?” So I sighed and replied, “Show me the purse.” Come to think of it, Sprog 2 says “What did you say?” a lot. Sometimes several times in a row to exactly the same question. Which is tough on someone who wasn’t that keen to speak in the first place. Either she’s going deaf, I mumble (Husband’s preferred theory) or she enjoys being infuriating. Ah well, only 19 days until silence descends in the house during school hours. I’m sure I’ll miss the babble when it’s gone. A tiny bit. Maybe.

*Fortunately I have about 22 hours of typing in me during any 24-hour period.

DIET LOG: OK, there was some popcorn at the movie. Ohhhh, the shame … it was actually about 30 pieces. Possibly 40.

WHAT THE SCALES SAID: Not surprisingly, 69.3kg

TONIGHT’S DINNER: I am making baharat lamb for o/s friends for lunch so dinner will be leftovers, I reckon.