Yesterday evening, as I was preparing dinner, cleaning up after the wee man's usual swath of destruction and generally trying to remain sane, the phone rang. A long distance ring. I expected one of his grandparents, an aunt or even a distant friend. Instead, in the midst of the roiling turmoil that stands in for our regular evenings as we try to get some food into the munchkin before we hit full meltdown, on the line was that special kind of evil - the telemarketer.
At that precise instant, the wee man issued an ear-splitting howling barking cacophony of such intensity that as the windows vibrated and the floor shook. Before I could say another word it was the telemarketer who wanted to get off the phone. And as I hung up, as suddenly as it had begun, the audible assault stopped dead. The wee man grinned.
And so did I.