I am on the phone with my husband.  He has the big kids on his end.  I have the little one on mine.  Hearing each other makes the child’s game of telephone seem easy, when I ask an offhand question.

 

From my perspective:

“Honey, did you light the incense today?”

He responds, shocked, “WHAT?”

I repeat, slowly,  “Did you light the incense today?”

“Okay, it sounds like you’re asking me, did I buy incense today, and I know that’s not right.”

I’m rolling my eyes.  He is so deaf.  “Did you light the incense?  Did you set the incense on fire today?”

The shock and horror in his voice is baffling.  “Did you just ask me if I lit the incense on fire?”

“YES!  Did you LIGHT the incense on FIRE today?  In the cat room?!” I hate the stuff, but it covers the indiscretions of a cat who won’t cover his mess.

“OH! No, I haven’t done that in weeks! Oh my God!”

 

From his perspective:

“Honey, did you buy the infants today?”

“WHAT!?”

“Did you buy the infants today?”

“Okay, it sounds like you’re asking me, did I buy the infants today, and I know that’s not right.”

“Did you light the infants?!  Did you set the infants on fire today?!”

“Did you just ask me if I set the infants on fire!?”  He knows he’s deaf, but he also knows I’m crazy.  But surely not this crazy!

“YES!  Did you LIGHT the infants on FIRE today?!  In the cat room?!”  The cat room.  Fire.  INCENSE!  She’s talking about incense!

“OH! No, I haven’t done that in weeks! Oh my God!”  And this is the woman I leave my children with every day!

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