Yesterday while having lunch at a restaurant I observed a family of five sitting near us. At first I didn’t know why something seemed unusual to me about the family: two parents sitting with two growing children and one toddler. Then I realized what was so different to me- nobody was talking. The toddler had a steady stream of babble going, but wasn’t getting much response from other family members. Mom and Dad were sitting side by side, but staring off elsewhere and not talking. I thought maybe they were just relaxing after a long morning of shopping…or church…but they never did have dialogue with their children, not while I observed them. The two older children mentioned a few things between themselves or a parent, but they weren’t engaged to talk.

What a difference from our family. It reminded me to be thankful for our loquaciousness. Lately the amount of talking in our house, as children grow, has been downright nerve wracking. No matter where they are, they’re talking. While I type this I hear them in the kitchen with a steady stream of chatter. In the morning, the first sounds I hear from their bedroom are quiet whispers of talk (especially between a certain pair of boys.) In the morning the first thing I am met with is whatever is on everyone’s mind. Lessons are interrupted with the latest wise wonder. If driving down the driveway, I have to ask for a few moments of silence while I gather my thoughts. When Scott gets home, he has five steady streams of conversation driven at him simultaneously in the kitchen. At dinner time, this reaches a crescendo, where everyone is (still) talking and we have to call a pause for prayer. Almost as soon as the final ‘Amen’ is said, the conversation picks right up again where it was left off. Refereeing dinner for ‘who has the floor’ is a sport in itself. The talking always lasts longer than the food. The talking continues during clean-up and all the way until bedtime. When I kiss goodnight, they are still talking to me, all the way until the very end of the night when we say, “No More Talking.”

One weekend we left the video monitor out after a Friday movie night. The weather was wet, we were tired and the kids sat around watching movies the next day. Finally about 4:pm I realized the big difference in our house. Nobody Was Talking. With the tv on all day, conversation had ceased.

Much of our instruction to our children happens orally. We have certain things to impart on certain subjects which we can just lecture on as we clean up dinner or drive in the vehicle. They are used to being engaged to listen, think, and respond. Likewise, we are conditioned to listen, think, and respond to most of what they say to us, whenever and wherever possible. It’s part of the homeschooling lifestyle.

So whenever I am overwhelmed with conversing, I will try to remember the silent family.