When I hear the phrase “selective hearing” what usually comes to mind is my Dad. You see, for my entire grade school experience my Dad would drive me to school and drop me off in the morning; but it was during this drive that one second I would find myself in the midst of a conversation and the next asking “Dad? Daa-ad?” And the usual reply was “Oh, were you saying something?” or “Oh, what was I saying?” As I grew older I came to understand that my Dad’s selective hearing is really more a matter of his extreme focus – he begins to focus so precisely on his thoughts that he literally cannot focus on anything else, including little munchkins calling out “Dad!” So as I was growing up I became accustomed to his selective hearing and resigned myself to the fact that my Dad sometimes needs one or two (or three) beckons before he snaps out of his black hole of thoughts.

Ava and her Poopah

What I did not expect was that one day, this would all come back to me (and no, I am not talking about my own husband). My lovely 7 month old daughter seems to be a little too much like her Grand-poopah, as we have come to call him. Yes, my baby will play and play and play and if I but attempt to get her attention at the wrong moment my energies may as well be redirected to folding the laundry because she is. not. going to pay attention to me. She is such a focused little lady that I could be screaming her name (and I have) but instead of turning to look, she just keeps on tending her toys. At first, I was a little nervous that she may actually have a hearing problem; but don’t worry, we have thoroughly tested that theory and determined that she does, in fact, have selective hearing.

My focused little Bug. She plays hard and hears only what she wants. Can't wait for the teenage years...

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