Just One Minute


I needed one minute to call someone back from our synagogue.

Just one minute.

The Yoys were quietly watching a movie and munching on slices of cheese.

I tip-toed into the kitchen and dialed the number.

It's like they KNOW I'm on the phone.

Poodle Yoy snaked Big E's cheese and he lost his sh*t.  Um, Big E she ate your cheese, not your actual hand.

He came running into the kitchen in full nuclear meltdown mode.

Little E, not to be ignored, followed hot on his trail, flung open the refrigerator door and began unloading the dairy drawer.

I tried to ignore the chaos and write down a few phone numbers.

CAN YOU REPEAT THAT?  SORRY.  CAN YOU REPEAT THAT.  AGAIN?

I appreciated that the woman on the phone didn't make a snarky comment as I know she heard the sh*t show being transmitted via telephone.

IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU'VE GOT YOUR HANDS FULL.

She didn't say that, but that is the stuff I usually hear.

I translate it to mean:  IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU HAVE NO CONTROL OVER YOUR KIDS.

After I hung up the phone, I sat down on the floor with Big E and explained the whole quiet while mommy is on the telephone thing.  He nodded his head emphatically, but I'm sure he'll do it again.

Next up, I have to call SunTrust.  This should be awesome.

By the way, I love this couch.  It is pink and way awesome.

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