Children have a serious design fault.
To a child, it seems quite reasonable to shout even simple requests at the top of their voices. To them, a whisper is unthinkable. Life is carried out cranked up to the highest volume and at top speed.
It exhausts me just to look at them and as for listening, well, it's no wonder that my hearing is no longer as acute as it used to be.
There's a lot of talk about the dangers of youngsters hanging out in nightclubs and dancing too close to the speakers, and the danger this poses to their hearing. But what about parents? Who ever thinks about us?
After the daily torment of demands for juice bellowed straight into my ear, it's a surprise my ears drums haven't perforated and that I still manage to cling on to the small amount of cognitive function remaining. After the 13th tantrum of the day my ears continue to ring long into the night, a fitting accompaniment to the jangling of my nerves. And these are just the high points to endless days filled to the brim with high volume bickering, shouting, cheering, oww-ing, singing and whining. Even happiness is conducted as loudly as possible.
Why, oh why, were children not designed with volume control and preferably, an emergency mute button for moments of impending parental insanity?