Talk talk talk talk talk talk

So my nephew, Samuel, was in town the other day, and he clearly had a severe case of what specialists call Chatterboxitus.

Chatterboxing is a serious medical condition that afflicts small children and causes them to talk. Constantly. Without stopping for breaths. Its only known cure is leaving the patient with grandparents while the parents go out for dinner. And probably drinks.

And, in the interest of full disclosure, I feel obliged to confess this: Both of my children are recovering chatterboxes.

For those of you not familiar with small children, here is a simple test to determine if a child is chatterboxing: Did he or she wake up around 4 in the morning and talk nonstop for the next 12 hours?

It is quite an amazing stream of consciousness. When we arrived at the house on Saturday morning, I saw Samuel standing in the middle of the den. He was dancing. And singing. And attempting to juggle. And talking to the cat. And having a conversation with the "Astroboy" movie that was on TV.

I looked over at my sister, who sighed. Parents of chatterboxes do that a lot. We sigh. Because we have tried EVERYTHING. And it only leads to more chatterboxing. "Why are you breathing like that? I want to breathe like that. It's kind of like a yawn. I like yawns. But not sleeping. My bed has Batman sheets."

My folks had tried a little diversion earlier in the day. They had taken him for a walk that morning, and he offered this commentary: "Is that a tree? Is it a pineapple tree? We could have pineapples. Are there coconut trees? We could get a coconut. Is that a tree? Look there. Another tree." Repeat this type of conversation for about two blocks.

Now, before you go judging Samuel (or, worse, his wonderful uncle), let me clarify that he was doing what most kids do - getting riled up and excited and having a blast. He's not even 3, and add to that mix going to Grandma and Grandpa's, where there are aunts and uncles and cousins and popsicles - LOTS of popsicles. Pretty easy to get on the riled up side. Trust me, I know. As I said, my kids are recovering chatterboxes.

I remember a time when my daughter was about that age. I asked my wife, "Why won't she stop talking?" This was on the last leg of a trip to Atlanta. My son was diagnosed when a friend of ours took him for the day. She called us during a car ride and asked, "Does he ever stop talking?"

The conversations of chatterboxes are truly amazing. Like Samuel's infatuation with trees, they often focus on the current interest of the child, and then spawn into run-on thoughts. Example:

"Do you like pirates? I like pirates. Do they fight vikings? Who would win between a Viking and pirate? Would the loser go to jail? Would it be Viking jail or pirate jail? And can police officers arrest a Viking? How about a pirate? Police officers have big belts. They keep guns on them. Vikings don't have guns. Do they have belts? If a pirate had a belt, could he have a gun?"

My response was usually something like: "AHHHHHH!!!! STOP STOP STOP STOP!!!!!"

Of course, now that my kids have outgrown the chatterbox stage, I find myself not being as bothered by the bouts. For example, when I first saw my nephew going nuts, was my reaction to call for him to stop? To try and find him an outlet? To seek a distraction? Or, possibly, was is it to encourage my dad to get his iPhone, which has a video camera on it, so that he could film that awesomeness of Samuel doing a cat impersonation?

I'm gonna go with the latter.

Let's be honest - chatterboxing is something some kids do when they need to channel some energy and don't quite know how to do it. They'll learn eventually that there are better ways to harness that energy. Such as finding a coconut tree. And a pineapple tree. With a pirate. And a Viking.