The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place. — George Bernard Shaw
My family starts its morning routine. My wife readies herself for work, and our daughter is awake, talking at speeds that would violate the laws of a German autobahn. I prepare our daughter’s lunch and backpack for another day of first grade. She’s hungry, and mom’s in close range of her.
Daughter: Momma, could you get me breakfast?
Mom: Sweetie, if you want your breakfast now, ask Daddy, okay? I have to finish getting ready for work.
Daughter: Okay.
I, standing within a few feet of my wife and daughter, overhear their conversation.
Me: Sweetie, cereal with strawberries?
Daughter: Yes, please!
Me: Okay! Oh, did Mom tell you what time she’d be home tonight?
Daughter: I’ll ask her. Mom, what time will you be home tonight?
Mom: It’s a Zumba night, so probably around seven.
Daughter: Around seven, Daddy!
Me: Thanks, Sweetie.
Mom: Sweetie, can you make sure that you and Daddy shop for birthday presents for the parties this weekend? Oh, don’t forget cards. Kisses! Love you!
I make a mental note to myself, since again, I was only several feet away from the mommy-daughter exchange.
Sweetie: Daddy, we need to get birthday presents for the parties this weekend. Cards, too, okay?
Me: Thanks, Sweetie. We’ll take care of it after school.
That afternoon, the telephone rings. It’s my wife calling from work. Our daughter answers the call.
Daughter: Hi Momma. How is work today? What time will you be home? Okay. Uh-huh. Yes. I’ll tell him. Daddy, Mom wants to talk to you. And she wants to know what we’re having for dinner.
Nearby, I’m busy preparing dinner. I wave both hands at my approaching daughter as if she were going to curse me with a case of lifetime diarrhea.
Me: Does she really need to talk to me? Tell her we’re having salmon tonight.
Daughter: Mom, we’re having salmon tonight.
Later that evening, with our daughter safely tucked in bed, my wife and I are alone to catch up on the day’s developments. Fortunately, she is saved by her Kindle e-reader and I by a Boston Red Sox game on television.
We’ll talk to our daughter about everything in the morning.
© 2011 by Mike Farley
Farley in Writing 