Did you catch my title?  Can I tell you something?  That’s the thing about writers – we love to talk (but mostly on paper). 

My 5-year-old son Donovan says it all the time, “Can I tell you something?” It’s really quite annoying, but try explaining to a preschooler that he doesn’t need to preface every statement with a question because in the land of the free and the home of the brave, we are allowed to share. 

That’s not to say that anyone cares (and quite frankly sometimes I could care less) that my 5 year old is sharing.  You can bah humbug me all you want at this juncture but let’s face it - you are lying if you say you are enthralled by learning the character traits and peccadilloes of 56 small metal trains with creepy faces and distinct personalities.  I KNOW that Thomas the Tank Engine is ever so cheerful and that Gordon is just a big ole grump, but I don’t care. 

Of course, he doesn’t know that as I keep my lack of interest a secret - a very big secret. 

Here’s an even bigger secret.  One night at girls’ night out I was sharing what I am sure was a breath-bating story about my evening catering job when my friends burst out laughing.

“You just did it,” one said. “You did it.”

“Yes,” the other laughed. “The most annoying quality about your otherwise perfect son was one that he got from you!”

Apparently the apple does not fall far from the tree and I have been introducing my own stories with “Can I tell you something” for longer than my other son, the 15 year old, has roamed this earth. 

“That’s OK,” I thought of my friends’ comments and clamped my mouth shut.  “I don’t have to say another word; ha ha - the joke is on me.”

The thing is, I’m a writer AND a talker so if you don’t mind - if you have a second - if you could just put down that newspaper you are reading as you click along online and lean in real close...Can I tell you something?