Mad Natter and I recently came home from a trip to Hammie and Buppa's house. This is a six-to-eight hour trip in the car, each way. This time, we had a bonus trip, five-and-a-half-to-six hours to Upper Peninsula Michigan for our annual family camp-out. Needless to say, we spent a LOT of time in the car this month.
We often say that gifted children resemble Calvin, from Bill Watterson's iconic comic Calvin and Hobbes. Skeeve and I are giant fans of Calvin and Hobbes, as were most people who read it. Calvin is just so... much. He's just more of everything than the other children - more intelligent, more creative, and definitely more intense. That right there is exactly what we're living with - including the hard parts. But, I realized something, in my 14 days of 28 hours in the car. I'm not living with Calvin.
After several hours of shouting, yelling, sound effects, singing songs, indignant declarations, and the complete ignoring of everything going on in the car (including mama insisting one may not SHRIEK in the car, thank you very much)... I've come to a conclusion. I'm not living with Calvin, because I'm living with one very specific aspect of Calvin. I'm living with Spaceman Spiff.
Everything has a noise, everything has a sound effect, and there is no such thing as just walking somewhere. Weapons must come with us everywhere (usually foam pickaxes, but hey) in case googlies come out to get us. There is no quiet, not while there is consciousness. There is no calm, again, not for the same duration. Mad Natter jumps out of bed raring to go (HOW did two night owls make a morning lark of a child?!?), banging, crashing, and emphatically creating the effects for those bangs and crashes. His imagination is second to none, his intensity is crazy, and he lives the bulk of his life in a myriad of fantasy worlds - all of them with laser guns or swords, and all of them with vibrant life and sound. Depressingly, I can't see it while I'm hearing it. I'm fairly sure that would make all the difference.