Remember the days when I worried Whit would never talk? Well now I worry he will never, ever stop. He wakes up talking and talks until he finally falls asleep at night. He is like a senile older person who reads all the signs as you are riding in a car. The commentary is mundane, repetitive, and veers between annoying and hilarious.

This morning, driving to camp, he was babbling as usual. Grace buried her face in her hands, sighed dramatically, and announced, “Whit! You talk too much!”