Telephone Trauma

One of the main reasons that video phones will never catch on is because we women (the demographic with the most opinions about phone doo-hickys) know it's the worst idea since natural childbirth.

And I'm not talking about how touchy we are regarding our appearance - which might come to be monitored 24/7 by people whose helpful comments in that arena we could just as soon do without. I'm talking about the complication that kids bring to telephone conversations.

If you've got a kid or two, you know that they are very shrewd when it comes to the telephone. They learn from the time they are 3 ½ minutes old, and the phone rings in the delivery room (Grandma wants to know how it's going) that the telephone is COMPETITION. From that moment on, you can pretty much count on pure telephone hell, until they're old enough to completely monopolize it, and you can essentially incarcerate them in their room by getting them a private line.

It doesn't matter what's going on before "the ring." My children could be dead asleep, or catatonic watching Barney (possibly simultaneously) but as soon as the phone rings, they instantly turn into Tarzan. Or Pavarati. Or some strange unnatural combination of the two. And they want to sit on my head.

It's like some post-hypnotic-suggestion thing.

When I talk on the phone, it's usually with one arm flailing like an epileptic Italian. I'm shaking my finger, and making furious GET DOWN FROM THERE faces. I'm feeling for loose objects to fling, and mouthing threats in between conversational snippets.

If this were broadcast on a video phone, it would look like a poorly dubbed Godzilla flick. Or possibly an invitation for some serious mental counseling. But I suspect it goes on in just about every house, worldwide, that contains at least one phone and at least one child.

The howling and climbing stage soon gives way to the "I want to talk" phase. This can sometimes be useful, such as in the case of solicitors, or long-winded relatives. But if you're trying to ask a tax question or make a Dentist appointment, it can be a major hassle.

I want to talk.

<Excuse me> Honey, it's not for you.

But I want to talk!

<Shaking head, mouthing "no.">

I WANT to talk!

<Offering a toy.>

I want to TALK I said!

<Offering food.>

I WANT TO TALK!

<Offering money. Large bills. The whole wallet. Stock options. Anything!>
<Grabbing for the phone>

I WANT TO TALK!

<Excuse me.> Honey, No!

<Leaping, batting>
I WANT TO TALK! I WANT TO TALK! I WANT TO TALK!

<Plugging outside ear, twisting away to protect head, and wishing for death.>

I WANT IT! I WANT IT! I WANT IT!

<Trying to climb into the cereal cabinet for 3 seconds of privacy.>

MOOOOOOMMMM!  I WANT TO TALK!

And then you get off the phone, realizing to your horror that you accepted an appointment for a root canal the day after you leave on vacation. And you don't actually NEED a root canal.

Seriously, it's easier to drive over to the dentist's office than try to conduct this simple business on the phone. But it's not just the Dentist call. It's EVERY call. Your child-free friends, your congressman, your broker, 911. Who can tell?

So never mind installing a video monitor. We're perfectly aware of how bad this looks. And besides, the lighting is terrible in the cereal cabinet.