scribblechic

Simple truth, I am horrible at small talk.  I am quite certain everyone entertains unspoken thoughts filtered by etiquette and kept to themselves.  I am absorbed by obscure thoughts and often get lost in wonderment unraveling a stray idea.  This is why children are my favorite conversationalists.  There is no small talk, only exclamations and whimsical tangents.

Children share tid bits of thought with the flourish of a suitor lavishing flowers.  When I cut my hair from the middle of my back to a chin length bob, my daughter summoned an audience and proudly announced to her preschool class that I had cut my back hair.  I was enchanted by the honest translation, however unflattering, for its originality.

Gather children together and the topics are as numerous as the stars in the sky. Guiding my daughter’s Kindergarten classmates through a task a student unexpectedly exclaimed, “You smell nice!”  This tiny ripple drifted across the table’s perimeter leading to a series of unrelated thoughts; topics toppling into one another like dominos.  It was one of my favorite mornings.

Caught between the elementary school age and teen years, my son performs basic conversations quickly and out of obligation, eager to spout statements of knowledge.  I will not pretend to comprehend each of his scientific theories, but I adore his need to embrace a challenging concept at the end of a school day and skip the simple details of his lunch.

My life, graced with my children’s spontaneity, is riddled with conversational distractions; our days are happily fragmented. With fascination and humor I skip from story to statement, grateful for the endlessly entertaining rhythm of the unpredictable.