I got an iPod for Christmas

...but then so did most of America, so I guess that's nothing special. However, it may actually end up saving my sanity, as my 4-year old daughter is apparently in training for the Non-Stop Inane Babbling Pro Tour.

The child, while admittedly brilliant and comedically advanced waaaaaaay beyond her age, narrates her every thought. Heck, there isn't even thought involved for some of it -- it's just constant yammering AND IT NEVER STOPS. The irony is that when she's tired, she talks even MORE.

You think I'm exaggerating. Oh how I wish I was.

She of course gets her chatty talents from her father, whose conversational stamina is well known throughout most of Florida and some parts of Michigan. But since she spends most of her life hanging out with me, you'd think that SOME of my quiet, self-absorbed melancholy would rub off on her... But no. Yap, yap, yap.

But now! Now, thanks to Apple's pricey, everything-costs-extra-and-you-know-you-want-everything iToy, I can plan dinner while listening to Norah Jones instead of Motormouthed Preschooler. (Don't judge me until you've had your train of thought interrupted with, "Mommy?" for the 1000th time before 10am.)

I'm smiling and nodding, but it's not because 4-year old Daughter is tattling on 2-year old Son for putting an entire family of mermaids in his diaper and hiding behind the couch. I'm bee-bopping along to as many tunes as I can cram on to this 30-GB dealie until I accidentally drop it in a puddle or leave it in a shopping cart or my son stuffs it down his diaper and disappears behind the couch.