Hellobee

Last weekend, I took my 5 year old to see the Nutcracker at a local ballet school. An only child who’s constantly seeking connection, she opted to sit on the bench up front with other kids, and I a few rows behind her. Immediately, she struck up a conversation with the girl sitting next to her, and continued to chatter, in between getting up to twirl like the ballerinas.

I watched her closely throughout the show, mostly to make sure she didn’t leap out onto the stage, as she would be eager to do. But I also watched her for the chatter. Because my daughter is a talker, and at 5 and a half, she hasn’t quite mastered the social concepts of two-way conversation. She seeks to engage with anyone who’s willing – and not so willing. She wants to tell stories, share her thoughts, anything that comes to that busy brain of hers, without much pause for others.

After the show, the little girl sitting next to my daughter approached me and told me, very politely, that my daughter talked her ear off throughout the 45 minute show. It was very brave of her to say so to a stranger, and I commended her for the bravery and apologized on my daughter’s behalf. I also explained that she gets very excited about talking with others and thanked her for being so patient. My daughter, by then, ran off to show her snowman rubber ducky to all the dancers who were now meeting and greeting the kids and to answer their polite questions, without yet considering that she should ask them some too.

This was the first time someone said something about my kiddo’s chattiness, but I have been expecting it for a while. Whenever I observe this social creature of mine, I see how enveloped she gets into sharing her universe with others, I am often torn between being the engaged parent and teaching her social norms. Her dad and I have now learned to respond with lots of questions and acknowledgement when we’re at home, but we also teach her not to interrupt, and that it’s rude to talk over people or ignore it when someone else is saying something. I struggle with how to teach her that people don’t orbit around her, and that social interactions must include other people too, but doing so without squashing her excitement for interaction.

This is on my mind a lot because I grew up in a social dichotomy. My mom was, and remains, a very direct, blunt, and spirited talker who often eclipses everyone around her. She rarely asks questions of others, and her friends tend to be people who either prefer to have someone be in charge of the talking, or are powerful enough to break into her orbit with their own stories. I often perceived my mom as too direct, too blunt, and too inconsiderate, and as a result, I taught myself to be the opposite. I struggle to put myself into conversations, often letting others take the lead. I’m good at asking questions but not at keeping the conversation going. As a result, I often come off awkward and disengaged, I don’t make friends easily, and have very few people I would even call friends.

There is an irony here, because people love my mom. Some are put off by her directness, but not as many as are put off by my perceived lack of interest. She has strong friendships and connections. I don’t, and my daughter, as a result, has no village, and few friends to connect with outside of school. And so I wonder, how do I avoid creating a similar fate for my daughter? Is my perception of her social graces simply my own biased view of what’s proper social interaction, or should I be teaching her how to be more accommodating in order to function properly in society? How much of someone’s love for engagement with others is too much? Or is there no such thing as too much engagement?

From the moment she was born, I vowed that I would do everything I can to raise a child who’s strong and spirited. I want her to have no trouble asking for a raise, standing up for others, and fighting for what she wants. I want her to continue comfortably approaching people and striking up a conversation, something I still don’t feel comfortable doing as a fairly accomplished adult. I want her to have a village – friends, neighbors, a network to rely on. I truly believe that her love for connection is a critical asset that I should be fostering. I’m also afraid that she’ll keep encountering people who don’t know how to handle her, and that spirit for engagement will wither, the way I squashed mine. I know that it’s likely not an either-or scenario, and I will continue to teach her proper social manners, like not interrupting  and asking questions and acknowledging when people are talking. And for as long as I can, I will not tell her that someone found her too talkative, and let her relish in connecting with others. Perhaps it’s time for me to learn something from her.