I feel the need to apologize if you get a phone call from me. To be more precise, from my son, (whomigavebirthtowithouttheuseofdrugscanigetanAmen?) who is completely obsessed with making phone calls. I've tried telling him he should attempt to leave the house more than once per week but he looks at me all funny, hikes up his pajama bottoms and last week's boxers, and dials yet another number. His nearest and dearest have learned to not answer the calls. Even Gramma, who CLAIMS she was painting ceilings. All day. And all day tomorrow. Possibly into next week. Of course, all he wants to talk about is video games, Milo's whereabouts, the odor of his own poo, his owies, movies, and Star Wars, so I do understand the phone screening. I'd screen his calls too, but he doesn't need a phone to talk my ear off. He just needs to follow me into the little mom's room where I'm peacefully lathering my hair in silence only to be brought down to earth by a small, nekked man doing #2 a mere 18 inches from my shower stall.
"Why can't you do that in the other bathroom?" I demand, peeking out, shampoo blinding me for life (if the smell from last night's chili doesn't do me in first).
"Cuz I need to talk to you," he says, cheerily, elbows on his bare knees. He has to strip down for #2. Don't ask why.
"Talk to me about what?"
"Well, thanks for dinner tonight," he says.
"Umm. You're welcome."
"Next time could you make something that tastes yummy?"
"I'm not done yet. So...do you wanna talk about Darth Maul or Darth Sidious first?"
After seventy-eleventh descriptions of clone troopers vs. storm troopers, he manages to waddle off (waddle because his legs will have fallen asleep, leaving behind a bright scarlet, toilet bowl shaped ring on his backside), leaving me in a green, vaporous mushroom cloud of death. My hair immediately loses it's promised bounce and vitality as I struggle to regain consciousness.
So you understand why I'm trying to limit the guy's phone skills. Anyhoo, he was unintentionally cracking me up today because he has heard this message far too many times now:
To leave a voice message, press 1 after the beep.
But he thinks it says,
To leave a boy's message, press 1 after the beep.
So, he grumpily presses 1 (because he's a boy) and promptly hangs up.
This makes me laugh.
He gets confused sometimes if he's leaving a message for a girl. He doesn't know what number to press. Is it 2? Is it 9? Is Gramma a girl? So many unanswered questions! Life is hard when you're four years old and no one will take your calls. Should he always press 1 because he's always a boy, even if he's calling a girl? The operator has not made this clear. It's a conundrum and it furrows his little brow.