It was London City Mum's comment on the last post that got me to thinking - imagine life if everyone you inter-acted with was under the Twitter 140 character rule.
(Fade to wavy dream lines........)
Teen - Mom, have you seen those blue jeans with the ripped pocket? They're not in my room and I need them right now. I can't believe they're not on........
Me - What's that you're saying? La la la la la .... (Exit stage right.)
Spouse - You wouldn't believe the day I've had. Right in the middle of the 10am client meeting this know-it-all idiot turns round and has the gall to.....
Me - Sorry sweetie, I can't hear you. My head's in the dryer looking for your other sock, and oh by the way, would you mind signing the birthday card for your dad so that I can take it to the Post Office tomorrow. Oh, and have a look in the oven to make sure the dinner's not burning, but don't trip over the mop, I've just washed the kitchen floor. Thanks.
8 y/o - Mom.....what do you think would happen if all your hair fell out, along with your finger nails and every time you went to the toilet you had.......
Me - (In my head, of course.) What on earth have I birthed?
Mother (who may or may not be reading, so I will take this opportunity to remind everyone that these scenarios are entirely fictitious) - Well of course in my day you'd never ask a child what they wanted to eat for dinner or where they wanted to go on holiday. Children just did.....
Me - applies duct tape to mouth.
Cleaner (yes, I have help 4 hours per week) - Hello, it's me Livia. I can't come Friday so will perhaps come on Saturday morning. Don't know whether it will be 9 or 2 and I maybe cannot...
Me - Actually, I have no response. It doesn't matter what I say, she will come when she comes and we will be happy for the help and pay her regardless. Sigh....
Wouldn't it be nice...... Bam, ba ba bam.