And when little children aren't pushing buttons, they're answering telephone calls. Who hasn't had a call like the one I once had with a friend's child? "Hello," the small voice said.
"Hello. Is your mother home?"
"Yes," he said, then promptly hung up.
Ok -- I admit it. It was my fault. I should have been a little more specific. But believe me, things don't improve too much even after they gain a little telephone maturity. Just
last week I had the following conversation with the same child.
"Hello," he said.
"Hello. Is your mother home?"
"Yes," he said. A long silence followed.
"Can she come to the phone?"
"Yes." Another long silence.
"Will you please go and tell her to come to the phone?"
"Ok," he said, and promptly hung up.
Well, at least I didn't have to wade through a long telephone answering machine
recording. I truly hate answering machines, although I do recognize their value in a limited sort of way. And I can't abide those adult-choreographed messages wherein other people's off-spring are cute over the phone. I have news
for the proud parents: you -- and possibly your children's grandparents -- are the only ones who like listening to your three-year-old doggedly working her way through Barney's theme song.
I speak for most adults when I say
many kid-recorded messages are totally incomprehensible. What sounds adorable to blood relatives comes across as gibberish to the rest of us whose ears don't know that "weaveuhmessy" is urging us to leave a message. To me it sounds
like an invitation to go potty.
But there are certain advantages to having the little fellows around that the rest of us can appreciate. For one thing, anyone who listens to an answering machine message featuring someone's
not-ready-for-prime-time child lisping his way through an excruciating rendition of "This Old Man" or the child's interpretation of "Hey, Diddle Diddle" really, really wants to leave a message. This will automatically rule
out irritating calls from those who want to sell you siding or frighten you into buying a home security system.
And I must admit to a certain perverse delight in knowing a four year old's on the other end of the phone when
a telemarketing company's decided dinner time's the right time to sell magazine subscriptions or burial plots. So my telephone advice is sort of musical: "Knick knack, paddywhack, give the kid the phone and you'll spend dinner time
alone!"
