MY FAMILY is the loudest family in the world.

BABY TALK: Skyler's cute, but oh so taxing. PICTURE: JASON JOHNSON

Wherever we go, whatever we do, there is a cacophony, as if the sky were raining cowbells and howler monkeys.

If blame must be handed out, I would place it at the tiny feet of my youngest son, Skyler, who cannot go more than five seconds without emitting some brain-splitting sound.

I estimate that his normal speaking voice rises to about 80 decibels, the volume of your average vacuum cleaner.

Unfortunately, he rarely uses a normal speaking voice, preferring instead a series of delighted shrieks or outraged wails.

Skyler's favourite topics of conversation tend to be Mario Brothers, his desire to play Mario Brothers, why-oh-why can't he play Mario Brothers, milk, hamsters, how his brother hit him, how he didn't hit his brother, toys, toys that don't belong to him but should, Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs, why certain foods don't taste good, candy, and finally Mario Brothers.

Imagine this on an infinite, 24/7 loop.

I am truly ashamed to admit it, but I long ago abandoned trying to tell Skyler to be quiet; I have moved on to the much less polite, though equally ineffective, shut up.

Our first son, Jet, was quite a mellow baby. He could go long periods without crying or shouting or, as he grew older, talking.

But from the moment Skyler emerged into our world, he has taken a special delight in exercising his vocal cords. And they seem to be constructed of carbon fibre.

Knack

Skyler may be the smallest member of our family, but he has a knack for getting all of us to play by his aurally assaultive rules.

Last weekend, for instance, we were driving to a relative's house when it dawned on Skyler that his brother had an extra Hot Wheel.

Skyler: 'Jet! Give it to me!'

Jet: *Galling silence.*

Skyler: 'Jet! Give it to me!'

My Wife: 'Skyler, you have one already.'

Jet: *Smug, galling silence.*

Skyler: 'Jet - Jet won't give it to me!'

My Wife: 'Jet! Give him one! You have three!'

Jet: 'It's mine!'

Skyler: *Wrathful squall.*

Me: 'No shouting in the car!'

Skyler: 'Jet! Give it to me!'

Me: 'I said no shouting!'

Skyler: 'Why won't Jet give it to me?!'

And the fun is just getting started.

I said earlier that I blame Skyler for the noise pollution emitted by our family, but of course, as a parent, the blame really falls on me. I've got bad genes.

I come from a family of shouters, and instead of inheriting my wife's 'silence is golden' DNA, he took on my tendency to 'shout at the devil'. He just can't keep his mouth shut.

I remember a priceless exchange between my wife and Skyler a few weeks ago. He was blabbering on about Mario Brothers or something, and she asked him to please stop talking.

Skyler looked up at her thoughtfully, as if he were truly considering, for one shining moment, trying to take up her challenge.

'Mummy,' he said. 'I don't know how to stop talking.'

My wife and I exchanged glances, and then started to laugh. It was one of those defining moments that force you to really come to terms with your child.

My son doesn't know how to stop talking.

God bless him. God help me.  Back to Columnists