Talk To Me

Rosaline is practicing with those vocal chords of hers.  Screaming like a Banshee at a sporting event.  It's practice, I know.  I remember how this works.  They start with the mumbling, figuring out the slew of sounds that can be created by complex combinations of tongue, lips and teeth.  Now it's the volume control stage.  How loud can we go? How quiet?  How 'bout NNNOOOOOOWWWWWW??????!!!!!!  I love this though.  I know what's next.  Next we work on words.  I love words.  I was excited for the twins to talk and now that we have full, long winded conversations (often about absolutely nothing) I'm more in love with them then I ever thought I would be.  I can stand there and listen to Genevieve talk about why her carrots are giving her a hard time for 15 minutes.  I can lean against a bathroom wall all day and hear Arianna talk about the movie she was watching earlier while she works on a stubborn poop.  I can lay there in bed, them obviously stalling on bed time, while we discuss what adventures tomorrow may bring.  The responsibility of parenthood often snaps me out of it and forces me, kicking and screaming, to push them in what ever direction they should go.  But secretly I harbor the desire to stay in that moment forever.  Prolong these wonderful conversations I dreamt of when they were in Gina's belly.  I guess I've always been the type of crazy that talks to himself. ... and now I have little crazies who talk back.  And soon there will be one more.