Like Coals to Newcastle

While none of my children are quiet, Jesse is the main mouth in the house. The kid can talk endlessly.
I mean, all day, every day. From the moment he opens his eyes until waaaay past bedtime.
Question after question after question: "Who makes water?" ""But why do have to eat my peas? I'm strong without them." "How come Kyle stays up later than I do, when he's tired and I'm not?"
It doesn't actually matter whether we respond or not; the Peanut (one of his nicknames, along with Jesse Bear, J Bear, Baby J and DJ J Bear) natters on. Loooves to hear the sound of his own voice.
Jesse's often also asking to be signed up for this class or that: baseball, karate, chess. So this morning, while admiring himself in my bedroom mirror, he makes his pitch for yet another activity: "Hey Mom? Can you sign me up for speech class?" (He's actually referring to the fact that the school offers speech classes to kids with speech issues, language issues or the like)
Mick and I are rolling our eyes, of course. 'Cause the one thing this kid doesn't need is more opportunity to flap his gums.
I ask Jesse, "WWhat do you think you might do there?"
Jesse shrugs. "I don't know. Talk, I guess."
I can't wait to tell J's teacher of his latest request.