Inspired by Maxbella Loves
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
The Joys of Noisy Toys.
The joys of toys that make noise. I once thought it was only childless people who gave annoying noise making toys as gifts. But unfortunately this theory has been disproved on more than one occasion.
I felt that just prior to Christmas it might be pertinent to dislodge my deep seated abhorrence for toys that make noise. Party pooper that I may be. Because making noise is what children are all about. At least mine are certified professionals in the obstreperous.
I have had friends who have expressed concern as to whether perhaps my children might have hearing problems due to the combination of their propensity to make inappropriately loud exclamations and their inability to listen to instructions. I have taken their concerns on board and spent many days sneaking up behind my children whispering things like ' do you want some lollies' just to see if they can hear me. Of course they always can. It is only when you say things like ' have you done your homework' or ' can you please stop watching inappropriate videos on YouTube' that they really do seem to be deaf.
My youngest, and I think because she is the youngest behind two boisterous boys, possesses possibly the most booming chords of all three. She needed to find her voice early on and use it to get noticed. Because I live within this clamorous environment where yelling seems to be the norm I sometimes find myself fantasising about how life could be in a quieter home. I also wonder if it is our fault as parents. Did we make them this way? Could we have created a different environment? Or was it all led by the energy and tone of our eldest? Are we loud people? I don't think we are. I have seen and heard far more encroaching souls.
My Husband and I went on a child free weekend in Paris before our youngest was born. We caught the Eurostar from London. We spent many long peaceful hours meandering the streets of Paris, enjoying the relatively silent pursuits of photography, eating and looking at stuff. On the way home a woman boarded the train with her three children. She was loud. Her kids were almost silent. I think they had all realised early on that there was no hope of ever being heard above their Mother. Each and every action was accompanied by a loud verbal commentary that filled the entire carriage. "FREDDY, NOW WE ARE GOING TO GET THE PENCILS OUT OF THE BAG, THEN YOU CAN SHARE YOUR PENCILS WITH EVIE AND DRAW A PICTURE" and ON and ON it went. It became akin to one of those irritating toys that make relentless noise, read; I wanted to gag her, take out her batteries, throw her on the floor and jump on her. Some weeks later my sister commented about a tube journey she had made and reported the story of a woman accompanied by her three children. It was clearly the same family. She made reference to the overbearing larger than life attributes of this woman and her incessant need to shout each and every mundane activity in the midst of this very public space. What were the chances of that in a big city?
So perhaps I am just not loud enough. They all know that by notching it up a few decibels I will be defeated. Perhaps the key to a silent home is being super loud and vivacious yourself. I am certain my neighbors don't think I am meek and mild for the amount of yelling I have to do to get heard around here. Alternatively it could be I am not quiet enough. Do kids yell in Buddhist homes? Does serenity breed serenity? Maybe it is something altogether more spiritual.
The last thing a noisy family of five need is the addition of some noise making toys. But we've been given our fair share of dementedly repetitive items over the years. My eldest was recently gifted a vuvuzela. Yep, one of those ear piercing trumpets made famous during the World Cup in South Africa earlier this year. Of course my feeble request for the vuvuzela to not be blown inside the bowling centre, where his party was underway, was keenly ignored by the 10 ten year old boys. The ear drum busting horn could be heard bellowing throughout the centre to the great delight and hilarity of the children and the anxious smiles of centre staff. It was at this point that I was beginning to have evil thoughts towards the Mother of the child who had brought this gift. How could she have approved this monstrous toy? I imagined myself sneaking around to her house one morning and blowing the thing outside her bedroom window. Or better still pack it in my son's sleepover bag with clear instructions to wake the entire household next time he went over.
The vuvuzela had a short life span before mysteriously disappearing, however not before the neighbors had a good belting. It has probably gone to the same resting ground as all those other joyfully noisy toys .
I am guilty of committing the crime. I put my hand up. I once approved the purchase of a clanging noise making sword for a friend's child. Of course it was a huge hit. The clanging sword buckling joy became the soundtrack to the party. At one point the frazzled Mother was heard through clenched teeth exclaiming, 'Who in hell brought that toy?'
I just nonchalantly shrugged my shoulders and said 'I know, isn't it annoying!'
I felt that just prior to Christmas it might be pertinent to dislodge my deep seated abhorrence for toys that make noise. Party pooper that I may be. Because making noise is what children are all about. At least mine are certified professionals in the obstreperous.
I have had friends who have expressed concern as to whether perhaps my children might have hearing problems due to the combination of their propensity to make inappropriately loud exclamations and their inability to listen to instructions. I have taken their concerns on board and spent many days sneaking up behind my children whispering things like ' do you want some lollies' just to see if they can hear me. Of course they always can. It is only when you say things like ' have you done your homework' or ' can you please stop watching inappropriate videos on YouTube' that they really do seem to be deaf.
My Husband and I went on a child free weekend in Paris before our youngest was born. We caught the Eurostar from London. We spent many long peaceful hours meandering the streets of Paris, enjoying the relatively silent pursuits of photography, eating and looking at stuff. On the way home a woman boarded the train with her three children. She was loud. Her kids were almost silent. I think they had all realised early on that there was no hope of ever being heard above their Mother. Each and every action was accompanied by a loud verbal commentary that filled the entire carriage. "FREDDY, NOW WE ARE GOING TO GET THE PENCILS OUT OF THE BAG, THEN YOU CAN SHARE YOUR PENCILS WITH EVIE AND DRAW A PICTURE" and ON and ON it went. It became akin to one of those irritating toys that make relentless noise, read; I wanted to gag her, take out her batteries, throw her on the floor and jump on her. Some weeks later my sister commented about a tube journey she had made and reported the story of a woman accompanied by her three children. It was clearly the same family. She made reference to the overbearing larger than life attributes of this woman and her incessant need to shout each and every mundane activity in the midst of this very public space. What were the chances of that in a big city?
So perhaps I am just not loud enough. They all know that by notching it up a few decibels I will be defeated. Perhaps the key to a silent home is being super loud and vivacious yourself. I am certain my neighbors don't think I am meek and mild for the amount of yelling I have to do to get heard around here. Alternatively it could be I am not quiet enough. Do kids yell in Buddhist homes? Does serenity breed serenity? Maybe it is something altogether more spiritual.
I am guilty of committing the crime. I put my hand up. I once approved the purchase of a clanging noise making sword for a friend's child. Of course it was a huge hit. The clanging sword buckling joy became the soundtrack to the party. At one point the frazzled Mother was heard through clenched teeth exclaiming, 'Who in hell brought that toy?'
I just nonchalantly shrugged my shoulders and said 'I know, isn't it annoying!'
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