Sunday, January 4, 2009


If running your piehole were an Olympic sport, then Captain Jake Sparrow would be the Michael Phelps of motormouth.

The kid does not shut up from the moment he wakes up until he crashes back to sleep.

He actually has some interesting and funny things to say, but my goodness, his vocal chords must be made of steel.

And though most of the time his ranting is ridiculously entertaining, he can be most annoying as well.

Like the first day of Kindergarten. I think Jake was more nervous for Reilly the Red than Reilly was.

“Reilly? Do you think they will have books there?”

“Yes, Jake.”

“Reilly? Do you think you will have snacks there?”

“Yes, Jake.”

“Reilly? Do you think you will have friends there?”

“Yes, Jake.” (By this time, she is squirming in her seat and gritting her teeth as she hadn’t been worried about ANY of this until Motormouth started his intense line of questioning).

“Reilly? Do you think your teacher will like you?”

She was enraged at this point.

He had crossed the line.

She had been really worried whether her teacher would like her.

She’s quite sensitive about performing to other people’s expectations (most likely because her mother is a whackjob of a perfectionist).

But Motormouth didn’t let up. He asked the question again, this time with more emphasis.

“REILLY?! I SAID, Do you think your teacher will like you?”

And she let out an exasperated growl, made two fists and screamed at the top of her lungs,


I had to hide my face, I was laughing so hard.

How could I correct her behavior when I totally agreed with her stance, felt her pain, and couldn’t have said it better myself?

Motormouth wouldn’t let it die.

“Mommy! Reilly told me to shut YOUR damn piehole!”

“Jake, I think that might be a good idea. Reilly’s a little nervous about starting kindergarten today.”

“But Mommy, I’m nervous too!”

“Well, maybe if you stopped talking about it you wouldn’t be so nervous.”

“But she’s my SISTER!”

I knew he meant well, but his World Champion Motormouth reputation had preceded him.

He finally settled down after we got to the school.

We escorted Reilly to her new room, and to her new desk that was ready for her with her name on it and all of her crayons were stacked in a row in her brand new pencil box.

She breathed a big sigh of relief.

Her teacher remembered her from last week’s “Meet the Teacher” night, and she started to smile.

As I escorted Motormouth out of the classroom, I could sense her muscles start to relax as Reilly’s entire posture changed.

I kissed her on the forehead and told her I loved her and knew she would have a great day, and that me and Daddy would be so excited to hear about the first day of Kindergarten.

She told me, “Don’t worry about me Mommy, I’ll be okay.”

I knew that she would. I didn’t worry so much about Reilly. It was, and continues to be, her brother that we fret over.

But when we got in the car, Jake simplified it all. His latest barrage went something like this:

“Mommy, someday I will be in kindergarten and I will have crayons and I will have a desk and Miss Meyer will be my teacher and she will like me and I will have lunch and I will have lots of friends and I will have snacks and do you think I will have goldfish snacks or fruit snacks and do they have peanut butter in Kindergarten and Mommy did you know that Sarah is allergic to peanut butter and when we have cookies that have peanut butter in them she can’t have any and Mommy what am I having for lunch today maybe it will be peanut butter and Mommy for snack maybe I could have Spiderman fruit snacks and Mommy is Daddy moving dirt at his workjob today or maybe he is having snack and Mommy did you know that sharks can bite you?”

I so badly wanted to aptly quote my daughter and tell him to SHUT HIS DAMN PIEHOLE.

But thankfully, we arrived at preschool, and his Motormouth became someone else’s joy for the next six hours.



    Now that she's in Kindergarten, shouldn't she start dropping F-bombs? I guess not, since she hadn't even had one day of class yet....

  2. Ugh.

    Clearly you have not yet entered the realm of parenthood. Did you know that 8 is the new 13? Yeah, and mine is only SIX.

    I will tell you, however, that the Jakester has been referring to our new President-elect as:
    "CRAP Obama". And I think it's because he can't say Barack, but Lord only knows.