>The Very Important Phone Call
>”Hi Lindsay, is this a good time?”
It was a Very Important Phone Call I’d been waiting days to receive. I put down the mop I was getting ready to use in the kitchen and quickly assessed the situation. Bruiser was playing with his cars in the den. Punky was working on her homework in the dining room. All was relatively quiet.
“Of course,” I said in the most professional tone I could muster. “Now is a great time!”
The voice on the other end of the phone started talking. And for a couple of minutes, all was well.
But then, of course, Bruiser appeared in the kitchen, eyes wide, drawn by my phone voice like a zombie to human flesh.
“Who talking to, Mommy?”
I fluttered my hand at him and made a face, without feeling the least bit guilty. Important phone calls were rare around here, and I’d been playing with him all day long. Unfortunately, Bruiser couldn’t seem to grasp that concept. His expression became obstinate. “Who talking to?” he growled. “Who talking to? Who talking to? Who talking to?!“
“Yes,” I said into the phone, “I think that’s a great idea.” I paused. “Uh. What was that idea again?”
As I listened, I hunted down a packet of Toy Story fruit snacks and tossed them to him, much like a zookeeper would toss a slab of meat to a lion. He took them and backed away, but it was already too late. The exchange had drawn Punky in from the dining room.
“What was Bruiser yelling about?” she demanded stoutly. I shook my head at her and pointed at the phone, a pantomime that never seems to work on my kids. Punky came closer and stood right beneath me.
“Mommy?” she asked, looking up at me with her saucer eyes.
“I think we can definitely move forward on that,” I said into the phone.
“Mommy?” her voice grew louder.
“You’ve got a point there,”I told my caller, eying Punky furiously and pointing at the door to the den.
“MOMMY?” she said loudly.
“OUT” I whispered sternly. Punky glowered at me and stalked out of the room.
“What?” I said into the phone. “Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you. I was talking to my daughter.” I rolled my eyes heavenward.
“All DONE!” Bruiser shouted, bringing his empty wrapper to me. “All DONE! All DONE!” I took the wrapper and gently prodded him toward the doorway his sister had just disappeared through. “PUNKY!” he shouted, running for it. I sighed with relief.
Meanwhile, the voice on the other end of the phone was still talking.
“Yes, of course,” I said, trying to sound knowledgeable. “I know exactly what you mean. Uh oh.” Punky marched into the kitchen, singing, “Old McDonald” at the top of her lungs while banging on a toy drum. Bruiser was right behind her, blowing odd notes on a broken recorder as he stomped.
“Oh, nothing,” I said into the phone, running into the den. “It was nothing.”
“EE-I-EE-I-OOOOH!” they shouted, following me. As they marched in messy circles around me, I put my finger in my free ear. My murderous stares were having no impact on them whatsoever. What is with them?! I thought to myself. They never act this way…
…unless I’m on the phone.
I was losing this battle, big time. As they continued chanting, I broke out from their circle and headed for the playroom, where I shut the door and sat against it on the other side.
“We could definitely proceed with that,” I said into the phone. “And I like that there’s a contingency plan, too, just in case.”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
It was the kids on the other side of the door. “MOMMY!” “MOMMY!” Bruiser yelled. “What are you DOING in there?!” Punky added frantically.
“Could you hold on one second?” I said calmly into the phone. I hit the mute button and opened the door.
“What is WRONG with you?!” I asked the kids. They gazed up at me, quiet at last. “Can’t you see this is an important phone call?! Go play in the den! Now!” They scurried away, giggling and whooping in mock fear.
“I’m so sorry,” I said into the phone, after taking it off of mute. “Kids. Now, where were we?”
As the talk continued, I was gratified to hear that the kids had finally settled down and were playing a game with their stuffed animals in the den. Absentmindedly, I picked up my mop while I listened, swished it around in the bucket of soapy water I’d poured right before the phone rang, and took a few swipes at the kitchen floor.
At that moment, Bruiser came running into the room from around the corner, where he slipped on the floor in classic banana peel fashion. His feet went up in the air and he landed on his back. Now he’s two, so the fall was not far and the fall was not hard. But I knew what was coming next.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
It was over. It was alllllll over.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
“Um,” I said into the phone, gingerly stepping across the wet floor and bending down to pick up my son from off the floor. “You know, I’d better let you go.” As I stood up, Bruiser’s mouth was directly in line with the phone.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” he wailed into it.
“It was nice talking to you, too.”
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!”
“Yes, well, I hope to hear back from you soon. Bye.”
I hung up and shook my head, laughing a little as I soothed my son’s wounded pride.
They say that our kids grow up all too fast.
But let’s be honest. There are also moments when they can’t grow up fast enough.
