I’ll be the first to admit that I may have received a double dose of the crazy gene. I do try to hide it though. Of course, some days seem to have more crazy magnet in them than others. Take yesterday for instance. I had a three-way-conversation that left me feeling like the padded cell would be a really lovely place to stay. For a long while.
I’ve been working on arranging some activities for work and I needed to get some information from certain folks. Out comes my trusty phone and I start calling and texting people. I pull up one family on my contacts list and glance at the number as I tapped the button. I can’t say I put it to memory, but let’s leave it at some of the digits were memorable. (Of course, I like number patterns so it may be memorable to only me.)
Anyhoo, the phone rings and a rather muffled voice says something that I assume is “Hello?”
To which I respond. And the conversation goes like this:
Me: “Hello! Is this Tom?”
MV: “Hel-lo? Who is zis?”
Me: “Oh I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number. Thank you.” (click)
The Tom I was attempting to call does not have a Ukrainian accent, even when I have a headache and my kids aren’t yelling in the background. So, I did the eyebrow raise thing, noted I needed to update my phone contacts and moved on. Time passes and I take a phone call from a peer regarding another project. Part way through our hour-long chat about all things wonderful related to working with teens, my phone beeps in my ear. I see a lovely little patterned phone number is calling me, but I select “ignore” and keep bantering about just how to teach 50 teens in a session.
Phone call over, ear massaged, and water consumed I open up voicemail to see who called and just how my life is going to be made of more win.
MV: “Hello?!? Vhy did you call me? I vas drivink vhen you called and I could not tal-lk right zen. Vhat eeze it you vanted? Hello? Hello?”
Me: (Sigh) delete
A bit more time passes and I become engrossed in a text I will be teaching. Part way through a lesson I am writing I hear the machine-gun burst of Littlest’s feet as he sprints through the house to the bathroom. A few minutes later a wee voice calls out, “Mom! Come wipe me!”
To be honest, the request actually sounded more like this: “Mo-ooo-om! Come do dry-wet-dry-dry!” But I realize some of you are unfamiliar with my Littlest’s rather bizarro bathroom habits. Suffice it to say, he’s complicated.
So I find a bookmark and put my pen down. I enter the bathroom and ask, “So, you’re done?”
L: “Yep. All done. All done going poop. And I peed. Yep. Oh wait. Maybe not.”
M: “Okay, let me know when you’re ready and I’ll — Oh, hang on. Hello?” and I answer my phone.
However, Littlest continues talking. So the next bit is as close as I can recreate my conversational experience.
M: “Hello, how can I help you?”
MV: “Yes. I called you back and even lea-ft you a voicemail but you did not ree-turn my phone call. Vhy vould you do that?”
L: “Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom.”
MV: “Vhy are you callink me? Vhat is it that you vant from me?”
L: “Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom! Maaaahhh-mmmm! MAAAAHHHH-MMMM!”
M: “I’m sorry sir. I accidentally called you earlier. I thought I was calling someone else.”
MV: “Ye-es, but vhy did you call me? You vanted sometink?”
M: “Like I said sir, it was a mistake. I dialed the number wrong. I wasn’t trying to call you.”
MV: “You did not vant to phone me? Vell, vhy did you then? I do not understand. And vhen I phone you and left a mee-sage, vhy did you not return my mee-sage. Vhy did you phone-”
M: “I didn’t mean to call you! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” (hangs up phone, whirls back towards Littlest) WHAT?!?
L: “Can you go outside the door? I need some privacy.”
Yes people, the crazy is running strong around here and I can’t understand a single thing it’s trying to tell me. Aside from “run away, run away now!”