I spent about ten years of my early adult life, working in jobs where I was thrust into the exuberant world of childhood with its high-pitched shrieks and unbounded energy. I worked as a "rec room" supervisor at a Boy's Club during my university years, then spent five years working as an elementary school teacher, so I know all about rambunctious children, but I have lived away from it for a lot of years now, and had forgotten what it was like.
My life in British Columbia, is a pretty quiet one. Lucifer, our cat doesn't make make any noise except for the mandatory "meow" of complaint, whenever we pick her up. We didn't even think that Skye, our dog, could bark, until three months after we got her, and since then, she has only barked four other times, so we don't experience a lot of hyper-activity or noise in our house.
Once down here in Indiana, visiting with my mother, the quiet life I had been living, suddenly changed upon the arrival of my brother's family from Texas. His two sons exploded into the house, running, and wrestling, bringing with them the accompanying cacophony and clatter, of exuberant childhood. Later, the frantic commotion and hullabaloo doubled, when the two boys were joined by two of my niece's girls of a similar age, and similar energy level. It seemed that I was transformed into a bystander at the edge of a noisy race track.
I am not writing this blog as a complaint, because I know I was just as noisy and energetic at that age, and I must confess, that I even contributed to an increase in the chaos and noise several times last night, when I joined into the activities, playing the part of a monster and vampire, chasing the kids around. What I am saying, is that, in living such a quiet life for so long, it was a bit of shock to experience the uber-noise and activity level that is the everyday norm for parents of young children--they have my sympathy.
The photo shows my brother, Rob and his family, during a brief and quiet, unscheduled break in the play.
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