When I was in 2nd and 3rd grade my father went through a series of neurosurgeries.  Visiting rules at hospitals weren’t as liberal back then so I wasn’t allowed to visit him.  I adored my father so my perfectly rational response to all of this was denial.  Denial has always worked quite well for me until the last few years.  This facing reality stuff sucks….I don’t know why anyone would recommend it.

When my father would call on the phone I merely hid under my bed. See…that way I wouldn’t have to deal with it.  Neat and effective.  I actually have a vivid memory of lying under my bed smelling the dust and ignoring my mother as she called me to the phone.

Evidently my mother mentioned this to my favorite teacher—-this would have been 3rd grade—–and one day my teacher, Mrs. Brown, told me to say hello to my father for her.  I was thrilled and obligingly got on the phone that night to tell my Dad that Mrs. Brown said hello. And that was that.  After that I talked to him.

Owen has phone skills that absolutely dwarf those of the rest of the family.  He also seems to have intuitively figured out phone manners, politely asks who is calling (although he often guesses) says he’ll find out if I’m available, etc. without ever being taught.  God knows his phone manners are better than mine!  I swear I have no idea where this guy came from.  So anyway….he LOVES to talk on the phone….except of late he doesn’t seem to want to talk to Aunt Judi.  I think he’s worried about her.  Yesterday she called and he talked to her for a bare moment before giving the phone to me….although he did say “I hope you get better soon Aunt Judi” before hurriedly handing me the phone.

Poor Sweet Pea.  I need to have a talk with him. Sometimes love is hard…even when you’re six.

Leo, on the other hand, normally refuses to talk on the phone (although he is gradually relenting).  But these days whenever I say Aunt Judi is on the phone, Leo leaps up from whatever he is doing and scurries over.

My sweet peas.