My Real Life

I was reading Rachel’s blog yesterday, and was really struck by the amount of kid-chatter she was able to write about.

And I realized, as I wrote in her comments, that one of my favorite things about the winter is being able to listen to the kids play.

The monkeys keep up an endless stream of chatter as they play with each other, and as they play alone.

It’s always struck me, because even though I was an only child, I was constantly talking, as well.

To myself, of course, but talking through play, nonetheless.

Although by the time summer rolls around, I am practically tearful with glee as I say “It’s beautiful!  Go outside to play!” I miss the chatter that goes along with their playing. I know they are still having these strange conversations that outsiders would never understand, but that they seem to understand instinctively.  They have that sibling language, where one word or sound sets off a chorus of giggles because they all remember the context from which it was drawn and it is meaningful…just to them.

When they are outside, I miss it.

I started to wonder how often I stop listening to the play and just let it become the background noise that is the soundtrack to my time at home.  I started to wonder how much I am missing when I’m not listening to the talk of play.

This winter, I want to be sure to really listen to the play that goes on in my home.  Try to decipher their language, and see what’s going on in those little psyche’s that only comes out when they play.