Jen's Sprite's Keeper.
Confessions of a mom when her child was three years old.
Aaargh. I'm going mad. There were times when the only voice I could hear in my head was that of an adorable somewhat high pitched voice belonging to an equally adorable little boy. He learned not only to ask questions and form sentences, he's learned he could ask them non-stop. Question after question would fly my way, which I dutifully answered as best I could and I have to admit, I was pretty good at it.
Then he would check my answers by repeating what I had said over and over. We moved from two word phrases like "Look mommy." or "What's that?" to requests for full explanations about the world around him and then ask why, until each explanation needed another until he was fully satisfied. Then he would take the information and talk and talk about what he had just heard, peppering me with, "Isn't that right mommy?"
After a while I realized that my willingness to answer all his questions was a way for him to keep me near him, which was really sweet of him. It was a way to get my full attention, every second of the day, the unconsciously sweet little manipulator. If I started to move from the room or look in another direction, he would recognize the body language to flee and ask another question. He sometimes grabbed my chin to make me look at him.
At one point I told him, that he needed to give mommy a break because the only voice I heard in my head was his, that I couldn't hear my own thinking voice anymore, that my head was full of his questions and that there was hardly any room for my own questions.
After a while, he looked at me with concern and asked, "Is there room up there now mommy?" Yes baby, there's room.