As it turns out, James Joyce has nothing on Lily in terms of stream of consciousness narrative. Her constant patter makes Stephen Dedalus seem like a dull guy. The funny thing is that as a baby, Lily hardly ever made a peep. She was the quiestest baby and quite a shock compared to Ella who always narrated her life. How things have changed.
Yesterday, I took her on a 30-minute bike ride in the neighborhood. Actually, she rode her bike while I pushed Campbell in the babyjogger. Lily talked nonstop, and not much of it made sense. Here's one example, all said without pause:
Hey, look Mama, it's a leaf. It's a little one. Aren't you surprised I saw it. Wouldn't it be fun if the real Bella Dancerella lived at our house. She could babysit us and dance with us. Look I turned around without falling down. Can you believe we rode this far. Where's the boy playing a guitar. Wasn't it funny I thought he was a girl? Hey I can see our house. We should call Matilda and tell her about the bike ride. Think we'll have a race on our street again? If we do, can I run in it. When's my next birthday?
Phew. It can be exhausting keeping up with her. Ella always talked a lot, but with her I had to answer four million questions. Some days she asked them faster than I could answer. With Lily, I have to pay attention so I know what on earth she's talking about.