what happens when a talking family loses a voice

St. John's College is known as a talking college. If you're not much of a talker, you might not last too long there. It occurred to me yesterday that we are a talking family. Boy, do we like to talk. I can feel some of you out there smiling to yourselves - is she only realizing this now? I know, I know, but it took me suffering a seriously compromised voice to figure out that I might not last long around here without it. Forget about tenure, Mama - you can't even sing us songs anymore!

I have the flu. It is, needless to say, very annoying. The most annoying symptom of all is a constant, hacking cough that seems to be triggered by speaking and singing. And breathing, come to think of it. I just cough all the time. At first Frances was sympathetic and told me I could snuggle with her whenever I wanted. That lasted a day or two, and then started the exasperated questions like: when are you EVER EVER going to stop COUGHING??? Why don't you stop that now? Do you LIKE coughing, Mama?

Well, no, I don't. This cough has made me realize that I read books, sing songs, and talk talk talk all day long with my kids. Gabriel is in a stage with language where he wants everything he says repeated back to him. A frog! A frog in a book! A frog in a book! he will repeat, over and over, louder and louder, until I say: yes, Gabriel, that's a frog in your book. I realize I usually read many, many picture books a day to both kids, not to mention a chapter of Little House in the Big Woods or Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle with Frances. And for the past week, I've been out of commission. What to do?

Here is my answer, at least with little Gabriel. I draw to him. We've been communicating with pictures like crazy. Typically, he finds a piece of paper and a marker and runs up to me with the look of a crazed addict in his eyes and pleads, DRAW A BUS! DRAW A BUS, PEASE! (At least he's polite). And then we sit down together and I ask him which colors he would like, and as the bus slowly takes shape he gets more and more excited. His little body shivers with pleasure and he yelps things like: WHEELS!!! WINDOWS! A BUS, A BUS!

I feel like a magician, a wizard, conjuring things out of thin air that have a reality for Gabriel that is almost startling. His response seems equivalent to what your response would be if I took some dried out markers and somehow made an actual purple and orange VW bus appear in my kitchen. And it would be filled with snorting, smelly animals poking their heads out of the windows, looking cheerful. That's his favorite - cats and horses and lizards and elephants driving trucks and buses.

Yesterday I made him some big pictures on a big sheet of brown butcher paper on the floor. He drooled with anticipation (and teething) all over the pictures, watching on all fours, as I made them. Another truck, another truck! Oh, there are never enough trucks! But who could deny this small boy just one more little truck...?

Can any of us really imagine living in a magic 21 month old world, where images are real and have a life all their own? I'm sure aspects of that world are scary; anything at all could happen. But that's just it - anything at all could happen. A horse could drive a bus. Right in your house!


Gabriel has an appetite for kisses and hugs the likes of which I have never encountered before in a toddler. He is teaching Frances how to really hug, something I don't think I could have done. He gives us all boundless love and affection; it is really extraordinary. Delighting him with my little pictures is a gift I happily give (especially as I feel too sick to attempt much else). This evening I was sitting on the couch with Frances, who was going to read a book (that's one way to solve my speaking problem with her). Gabriel came up to us and looked studiously at the cushions on the couch. He experimentally pushed his forehead into them, stepped back, and announced: a clunk. He looked up at me expectantly. You clunked your head Gabriel? Uh-huh. Do you need a kiss? He solemnly, vigorously nodded his head yes and stepped forward to receive it.

Ah, geez, kid. I'll draw you a thousand trucks, I'll give you a thousand kisses. Always.