The other day, the kids and I were at the local WalMart when Dear Daughter expressed a desire, no a need, for a set of walkie-talkies. Her reasoning, she explained patiently as I stood there with my mouth agape, was that walkie-talkies would eliminate the need for her to yell across the house for me. Yeah, all 1500 square feet of our mansion. DD is at that age where the pitch of her voice can reach such dizzying heights that the neighborhood dogs cringe in horror.
For you child-free folks, let me explain the differences in hearing between moms and their offspring.
Children can hear:
Yes and maybe. The word 'no' in child vernacular translates to that white-noise sound the TV makes when the station goes out. I can whisper yes or maybe from Mars and they can hear; no will never register even if I shrieked like Christina Aguilera belting out the national anthem (and I know the words to that one).
Moms can hear :
The slithering of TV remotes off the bedroom dresser at midnight.
The hurried shoving sound of that crappy-grade math paper into the bowels of a desk. You know, the one that requires a parental signature.
Lost socks calling from the depths of the sofa cushions and (eeeewww!) worn undies crying pitifully from the dark confines of the closet.
Astonishingly, Moms can hear the absence of flushing and running water. I know children the world over are, at this very moment, stunned by this revelation...mine have yet to recover from the shock.
Some people (men), can feel the weight of a stare. (Side note: this ability goes away after men marry. Scientists are still working feverishly to discover WHY.) Moms hear the stare from the bedside at all hours of the night, from the I'm about to vomit on the carpet/I'm scared offspring.
Moms can hear an ant fart in Idaho.
You need walkie-talkies like I need a third functional armpit. Over and out.