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Kazoo Blues

It never fails.

The boys are quiet. They’re playing nicely. They’re quiet and playing nicely. So quietly and nicely, in fact, that I’m not even sure where they are in the house. In their rooms? In the basement? Who knows?! They’re nice and quiet. And I know that they are somewhere, safe, in the house. I’m not about to go looking for them.  All is right with the world.

Then, the phone rings.

I’m telling you, the phone ringing is like a signal straight to the boys’ brains. It set off all sorts of alarms in their heads, disturbing the nice and quiet, and telling them, no - commanding them – to find me. Wherever they are, whatever they are doing that ringing tone means, “Drop everything right now and go find mommy. Find her. Do it NOW! And ask her as many questions as you can. Ask her for snacks. Ask her for toys. Ask her to play with you. Ask her for toilet paper. Ask her if it is raining outside. It doesn’t matter.  Just ask, ask, ask! The phone is ringing. Go! GO NOW!”

The other day I was on an important call when Benjamin and Nicholas appeared out of nowhere. Two seconds before the phone rang, they were building Lego, nice and quiet, in the living-room. Two seconds after, they were at my side. They were hungry. No kidding. Of course they were hungry. I was on the phone. I put one finger to my lips and pointed to the snack shelf, while balancing the phone on my shoulder. Then I quietly crept out of the kitchen and upstairs to my room, closing the door behind me.  Nice and quiet.

Sure.

I was finishing up my call when I heard shuffling behind me. I turned around in time to see two little stinks sneaking into my room, each with a kazoo in his mouth and lungs full of air.

Maybe it was the hand that I raised in protest, the hard line of my mouth, or the look of pure fury in my eyes, but both of my sons stopped, mid-breath, their kazoos wheezing out failed tunes. Nicholas’ kazoo fell to the ground, Ben’s dangled from his lower lip. Then, without a word, both kazoos were in my hand and both boys were in their rooms. And I finished my call.

Kazoos. Seriously? Why do we put kazoos in goody-bags? Why do parents do that to each other? We all hate kazoos. Why do we inflict them on each other? Especially while on the phone.

Needless to say, there were consequences. So long kazoos.

Honestly, kazoos?

Appropriate? No. Creative? Absolutely.

xo Naomi

Comments

  1. Irene @ FindAuPairOctober 17, 2014 at 3:45 AM

    That's funny! Your post gave me a good laugh. I think that, for your own good, you should set your phone to vibrate.

    ReplyDelete

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