He comes by it honestly - I had to stay late every day of first grade to finish my work because I spent all my classtime talking. When Husband and I were dating and in that talk-on-the-phone-till-all-hours phase, there was more than one occasion where he kept talking long after I had drifted off to sleep. When Middle Daughter was about this age, my life was like an episode of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, as she kept up a running commentary of our actions everywhere we went. So I should be used to having a chatterbox around.
But The Boy is different. His running commentary doesn't quite jive with anything in the real world. He has conversations with imaginary playmates. He recites snippets of UltraMan episodes, mixed in with quips from Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy. He happily recounts entire episodes from his Pokemon videos, complete with sound effects and elaborate descriptions of the action, and peppered with events from his own imagination.
I try to listen. Really, I do. But at a certain point in the narrative, my mind starts to wander. It's not that I'm not interested in how the ant on the sidewalk ate a radioactive muffin and turned into a ginormous creature that could breathe fire but actually was really nice but then Hiata came by in his jet and zapped him with the crystal phaser and then The Boy got really tiny and fell down the anthill and went to a different kingdom where a pirate came along and was looking for the treasure but the map had a thing on it and the thing was a magic lock and the pirate didn't have a key but...well, like I said, at some point my mind starts to wander and I tend to miss a bit.
But the snippets I do catch are fun. Yesterday, as we were driving to the zoo, The Boy was busy with his usual monologue, and I picked up on the following...
Yesterday, when I was at my brother Henry's house, he gave me a jellybean, and it was red, and I was about to eat it, but when I tried to bite it, it said, "Dude!" and I was like "Woa...a talking jellybean!"