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October 23, 2007

This One Goes to Eleven

Bullhorn_girl My daughter has no inside voice

I’m not talking about the inside voice that I hear in line at Starbucks…the one that commands me to “kill, kill, kill.”  I’m talking about the one all us parents know so well.  The one we beg our children to use in church or in restaurants.  The one that turns our excited, screaming kids into calm, polite young people.

The voice my daughter lacks.

It’s all well and good at home.  I have no problem with Cheeky narrating our lives at top volume.  “I go play now! Daddy and mommy eating, too! This music good dancing!  Hey, where did pillow go!?!” No problem…it’s all cute and good.  Sure, we’re probably breaking a dozen noise ordinances, but you can’t argue with the inherent cuteness of the whole thing.

In public…well, that’s a different matter.

This came into stark relief last week, as we were sitting in the Salt Lake City airport.  Cheeky was testing her scream, a staccato screech she’d unleash at short intervals with a mischievous grin on her face.  I held her tight, whispered in her ear, bribed her with promises of trips to Candyland, and considered (strongly) sticking a wad of napkins in her mouth. 

Then she declared--at a volume common among Diego and his animal friends—“Hey, where Mommy go!?!”

My mistake became immediately clear moments later, when my daughter loudly announced the answer to that question to the waiting passengers for Delta flight 1260. 

“Mommy is pooping!”

Yeah she is, sweety. And I think you daddy just did, too.


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