It’s a little known fact that little girls start talking long before boys. But once they start, they never stop. I still can’t make out half of what those squeaky little girls across the alley are saying. I smile, wave, and fake it.
One of them in particular is a real chatterbox. “Hi Neighbor!” she says repeatedly. Hey Neighbor! I’m eating gum. Watch me blow a bubble.” “Hey Neighbor Watch this!” as she jumps from atop a kiddie picnic table – repeatedly. She quizzes me about my brother, my son, our house, etc. ad infinitum.
She informed me It was time to go in the house and go to bed. I wished her a good night. She went in but she kept popping back out the door like a jack-in-the-box to say yet one more thing. She’s all of three years old more or less. The last thing she said was
“Call if you need me.”
I had to laugh. I thought: What possible need could an old man like me have for a talkative three-year-old girl?