Neither Hear nor There

My children verbally communicate at an average decibel level that’s somewhere between those of a vacuum cleaner and a jetliner. They are the children you can hear at a supermarket even when they’re ten aisles away. Their loudness is as much a part of who they are as any physical feature. And so it’s funny to me that while Reed can dish it out, he cannot take it—whether that “it” is the whirring of a blender or the club music that blasts from our local Chipotle. In the presence of such racket, he often covers his ears and implores—rather yells at—us to do the same.