Doc, the Prophet

It seems like an eternity, but back when Little Miss CB was almost 2, Al was worried.  What was the cause of dear Mom’s concern?  CB’s speech, or lack thereof.
“She’s just not talking.  I’m concerned.”  I’d hear this mantra almost daily.  What could I say?  I just assured her everything would be ok.  Then, my dad stepped in.

He told Al there was no reason to worry.  Al asked if this was based on years of medical experience.

“Well, that and the fact I know CB’s mother, and more importantly, her Nana.”  Dad said.  “Trust me, count this time as a blessing.  Cause once that girl starts talking, you won’t get a word in.”

Flash forward to today, and truer words have never been spoken.  CB talks…non-stop.  She gets out of bed talking, she talks no matter what she’s doing.  And, I’ve watched closely, she can talk without breathing.

This was apparent today as CB and I made a trip to Home Depot.  She was riding in the cart and had her continous commentary going as we walked down the aisle.  I guess I’ve become immune to it, but I know it’s gotten bad when others are noticing.

“What’s that man doing, daddy?” CB asks. Before I can even answer, CB steps in.  “I bet he’s getting paint for his house.  He’s probably painting it pink.  Do you think he likes pink?  I bet he likes pink.  I like pink,  Mary Kate likes pink too, daddy.  Are we going to paint our new house pink? 

I nod my head and push on.  “Quite a narrator you’ve got there.”  Mr. Pink says

“Huh, oh yeah.  I’m never lonely.” I say.
Mr. Pink laughs and me and my miniature Howard Cosell head on to the power tools