Talking tuna & the communicative conundrum . . . .

Talkative children? Use this button to turn them off..............

I used to find the pre-speech days rather frustrating.
Strange to think, that.
Now, I often think I'd give anything to have them back.
You see, improved communication comes at a considerable cost: That is, once in speech-enabled mode, it's impossible to get The B&G to stop talking.
Invent an off-switch for children, instant billionaire.
I might be being a little unfair, because, between us, me and The B and The G do have some good chats.
But it's not all cute conversation, far from it, in fact.
There are all the admonishments, for instance, The B&G doing all the telling off, me, as a rule, on the receiving end.
Yesterday lunchtime, for example, I put on a CD to provide a little low-level background listening.
The B bit into his sandwich and shot me a disapproving look.
"Turn that radio off," he barked between chews, making me feel like the child in this particular relationship.
The G is just as bad.
Just a short time ago, feeling a little festive, I found myself singing a favourite Christmas number.
"No!" cried The G.
I continued for several more bars, The G far from amused.
"No! No! No! No! No! No!" she shouted, full blast, refusing to stop until I had first.
That's not all.
There are also the insults to overcome.
So far this week, I've been 'a silly' several times.
I have also been 'a poo' and 'a wee wee' and, on one harrowing occasion, 'a poo wee wee poop poo poo wee'.
Traumatic stuff, no doubt about it.
The most said three words here in recent days: 'I', 'got' and 'snot'.
Not far behind: 'more' and 'biscuits'.
There's rather more to it than that, of course, and if I'm honest, The B&G's communicative capabilities do far more good than harm.
Earlier this morning, for instance, I sat down for stories and rather than me reading them to The G, she read them to me.
Then there are the misunderstandings and amusing questions.
Prior to yesterday's ill-fated radio switch-on, one such occurrence, The B paying close attention as I began to make lunch.
The B: "Daddy, what's that?"
Me: "It's tuna."
The B: "Yuck."
Pause for thought.
The B: "Daddy, what's tuna?"
Me: "You tell me."
The B: "Is it a fish?"
Me: "It is a fish."
The B: "Is it a big fish?"
Me: "It is a big fish."
Pause for further thought.
"The B: "Daddy, is a tuna bigger than a whopper?"
Position revised: Sometimes, it's true, it's good to talk.