The Beauty of Silence

Shane wants to stream video games when he grows up.

I put him on my computer with headphones, so that I could have a moment of quiet.

Shane started talking.

To himself.

There were lots of "Whaaaa!?" and "That's so crazy!" thrown into his self-narration.

He wasn't on a voice call or channel was he?

"Nope!" Shane said. "Just talking to myself!"

The only time there's peace and quiet in my house is when everyone's asleep....and that's when the cats start to run around!

The older I get, the more I appreciate peace and calm.

Meanwhile, Shane has an adverse reaction whenever it sets in. He starts to hum, sing, talk, or chase Loki around to get him barking!

True story: I played Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden for Shane. The tune popped into my head and Shane liked to put black holes into imaginary robots he built.

I didn't realize that Shane would sit in a chair next to me while I was trying to write and chant. "Black hole sun.....black hole sun.....black hole sun..."

I started to count, but lost my patience before he ever showed any signs of quitting.

"Is there a reason you're chanting that?" I asked.

"Huh?" Shane said. "No, not really. I like the song."

It continued.

"Black hole sun....black hole sun...."

"Could you stop? You keep saying it over and over and over..."

"Sorry, dad."

...

".....black hole sun....black hole sun..."

Best way to kill a song? Play the chorus on loop and out of key. It'll die faster if you do this while you're trying to focus on something quietly.

The realities of parent-hood can murder nostalgia from days of old.

And quiet.

Quiet is quickly a casualty of kids.

Whoever said, "Kids should be seen not heard," was probably at the end of their rope as their kids made a racket or hummed in their ears while they tried to read a book.