When I was a little girl, my mother’s siblings, who were farmers, would sometimes come into “town” from the country and visit. They’d sit around the table and smoke cigarettes and talk. We didn’t see them all that often and so it was always a treat. But the thing that always struck me about their visits is how LOUD they all talked.
I realized at some point that when you live out in the country and you are always trying to communicate over distance, wind and roaring farm machinery that you must talk loudly in order to be heard. And then eventually, that’s just how you talk, you don’t even realize it.
When Sean turned four, he not only began channeling Walter Middy, he also began speaking very LOUDLY ALL THE TIME, just like the country cousins.
Yesterday I heard myself say, “Sean. Dude. We are not out in the country. I’m standing right here. I can hear you. You don’t have to shout.”
And then a terrifying thought occurred to me. What if loud talking is not a result of living out in the country, but… it’s genetic.
What if… Sean inherited a recessive Loud Talking gene from my mother’s people?
Because I definitely have the Don’t Enjoy Loud Anything gene which I got from my father. And that does not bode well for my sanity.