Ice Cream Social

So Livvy talks. A lot. Nonstop. About things I didn't even know a two-year-old could think about. Sometimes she talks so long and so much that my little introverted brain needs a solitude break just to recharge--alone in the closet, locked in the bathroom, sitting out in the van by myself---whatever works. I mean this girl can talk.

She talks about doggies and airplanes and birdies. Pooh and potty and purses. Bubbles and movies and books. Today, she was in the bathtub and was making a virutal map. She told me that my house was on one wall of the tub and Aunt Judy's house was on the other wall. She was also exploring the intricacies of the family tree: "Your mommy is Grammie and your daddy is Pappie, right??" You name it, she'll talk about it.

Saturday, she and I snuck away for an ice cream date. How this child ldoes ove undivided attention, and with our crazy life, sometimes it is hard for her to find it. So, on Saturday, I decided to double-indulge her. Together, she and I went for a trip to Gelato Joe's, this oh-too-cute gelato parlor a few miles away. We each got our own dish of divine cookies and cream gelato. As I scooped away at mine, Livvy managed to get a few bites in as she chatted away incessantly; mostly, I watched the gelato melt and dribble down the side of the dish though she was just to busy chatting to notice.

I don't even recall the topic of conversation---just the fact that there was a LOT of it and it was mostly one-sided. After several minutes of chattering, Livvy stopped abruptly, looked at me with a look of concern and said, "Mommy, don't you know how to talk anymore?"

No need, Livvy. No need.