 Kids grow up and there is nothing we can do to stop it. No matter how much we love their cute little voices, they will eventually get older and their voices... well, they will get downright ugly. The words they speak will go from,
“Hey Daddy! I’m going to take this photo of my baby sister in my backpack to school today! I love her!”
To...
“MOM! TELL HIM TO STOP MAKING FUN OF MY SCHOOL PICTURE! HE’S PULLING MY HAIR AGAIN! STOP IT! OUCH! JERK!”
I’ll miss the days when my little boy says, “Daddy? Do you want to share your birthday chocolate pie together? That will be fun! C’mon! Let me get my stool and we can eat it at the counter! I’ll get my own fork!” Of course, this is followed by, “Can I have some chocolate milk, too?”
When he is a teenager, I imagine him saying something like, ”That sure was delicious.”
“What was?” I will reply.
He’ll say, “The chocolate pie someone left in the fridge. Was that yours? Oops, sorry Dad. Well, see you later. I’m going to the mall with Aidan.”
Halfway out the door he will respond to my suggestion of taking his little sister by screaming, “WHAT? No way am I taking her with us! She’ll just embarrass me! But Aidan’s not bringing his sister! No, please don’t call his dad!”
And long gone will be the days of my baby girl in her monotone crescendo voice saying, “da da da da da da ... DA DA DA DA DA DA... DA! DA! DA! DA! DA! DA!”
That fondly cherished sentence will turn to, “Daddy? May I pleeeeeeease stay out until midnight tonight? Why not? But the movie doesn’t start until 10:00! No, we can’t go to an earlier movie because Sarah and I are meeting Lauren, Mia and Hannah at Chili’s at 8:00! Gosh, Dad, I’m sixteen! All my other friend’s parents said it was okay! No, please don’t call them! You’re going to embarrass me!”
I will always remember the times when my son would say in that cute toddler voice, “Let’s drive the monster truck to the store!” It’s a Toyota, but to him it looks like a monster truck because he has to step on the side bar to get in. It makes me laugh every time. I wish I were three feet tall again.
Instead, he’ll be saying, “Dad, I need to borrow the truck. We’re rehearsing for the talent show at Mike’s and I have to pick up Steve’s drum set from school. Thanks. See you tomorrow! I’m spending the night at Tommy’s house.” Don’t think I won’t check to see if he’s really there. My father did and I got in trouble for not being where I said I was.
When I pick her up out of her crib, I’ll never forget the look on my sweet girl’s face that says, “You’re my hero! I’ve been rescued from this wooden jail bed into the clutches of Superdaddy!” One day that will change and she’ll tell me, “What were you thinking? I can’t believe you got out of the car and came inside to get me! We were almost done shopping! And you’re wearing socks with your sandals again! OH MY GOD! I’m so embarrassed!”
I’m probably overexaggerating all of this. I wish that were the truth. It wasn’t that long ago that my sister and I were teenagers. My parents always tell us that we were not that bad. I’m glad they think that and I will continue to let them. About ten years ago when I was in my mid twenties, I started confessing things that I got away with like sneaking out of the house at night. What was I supposed to do, ask them if I could leave for a couple of hours on my bike to go wrap houses with my friend that lived across the creek? They would have said no way. I would have said no way, too. They finally asked me to stop confessing. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them and were just happy a crazy person didn’t snatch me.
So, I’m going to enjoy the kids while they are still little and their voices still innocent; while eagerly awaiting their adolescence. One day they will be older and will hopefully provide me with grandchildren so I can relive it all over again.
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Quirkee Voices 
