I'm too tiny to be seen
But you'll know when I'm around.
I make children who can't keep quiet
And adults who can't make a sound.
What am I?
Did you know that it's possible to do the following things without uttering a word?
- Teach three college classes (a test, group work, presentations).
- Have lunch with a friend who is skilled at devising conversational topics that require little more than an occasional enthusiastic nod or shake of the head.
- Guide Bub through an apology to his caregiver's teenage daughter, whom he had greeted at the door with a shout of, "You! Stay away from me!" (This did require a whispered instruction, "You hurt her feelings!" before contrition took over.)
Did you know that it's virtually impossible to do the following things when your voicebox emits nothing more than the occasional croak?
- Write blog posts. My inability to talk has created a kind of mental constipation, a backlog of unbloggable trivia that has to be cleared before proper blogging can resume.
- Comfort the Pie when she's in a tantrum. My usual gambits for relenting-while-saving-face all rely on my ability to say things like, "Why don't you ask for that nicely?" When those words can't be heard above her screams of "I want it!" I have little choice but to let her flail around on the floor until her cries finally resolve into a heartbroken "I need to feel better."
- Act like a Mama. That, at least, was Bub's conclusion yesterday when I picked him up from day-care still silent except for the occasional not-quite-a-whisper. While Pie shouted, "Talk louder!" Bub gave me a level look. "You are not able to act like a Mama," he concluded.