July 05, 2007

Living Out Loud

As Hublet would be only too eager to tell you, I possess the felicitous ability to project my voice at great volume. While this came in handy during my college theatre days, and while teaching large rooms of fidgety freshmen, it has its drawbacks.

Especially when my talent for being really, really LOUD manifests itself in The Boy.

And there's no way to blame this on Hublet, who I like to refer to as Mumbles McGee on the phone. The man isn't loud. Not even when he's trying to be. It's kind of sad, really.

But The Boy? He's at what theatre types refer to as "full voice" all the time. And by "full" I mean FULL. VOICE. The kid is just loud. Really, really, REALLY LOUD. And when I'm the one noticing how loud you are, you're probably in danger of hurting someone with your vocalizations.

Naturally, his loudness is only exacerbated by excitement. Like last night. We trundled up to the top of our road to view the local fireworks display. This is the first year The Boy had partaken of the fireworks, and he was excited. Well, first he was whiny because he didn't get to sit on the top of the car, but then he was excited. REALLY excited.

And while I'm all for the "seeing things all fresh through the eyes of a child" yadda, yadda, whatever stuff, it's difficult to appreciate his appreciation when he spends 20 minutes screaming his every minute observation AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS OMG!

Seriously. We were outside, for crying out loud, and people were giving us the Library Stinkeye.

So Hublet and I are trying to lower the volume without crushing his childish innocence or whateverthell the Self-Help Books O' Blame are calling it nowadays, and keep him from flailing himself into a ditch or into traffic or tipping over the folding chair in his enthusiasm for the fireworks, and finally I just had to put my hand over his mouth and say, "For the love of all things holy, boy, stop screaming your head off!"

Which he found amusing, and kept him quiet.

For about a minute and a half.

But the fireworks were nice.

I'm just glad the kid has inherited some physical characteristic from me. And on the positive side, no one will ever call him Mumbles McGee.

Posted by Big Arm Woman at July 5, 2007 04:20 PM | TrackBack
Comments

In my marching days we called that "field drill voice" because it could carry to the opposite end of a football field :)

I haven't used mine since my last 140+ person algebra lecture...

Posted by: Joshua Sasmor at July 6, 2007 09:42 AM
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