I had probably the longest single phone conversation with my nephew Michael on Valentine’s Day, one that lasted about 15 minutes. Usually phone calls with the Ms are short while the handset gets passed around from child to child, and we might get three or four rounds of dialogue peppered with outbursts of “Stop that! She’s poking me! I can’t hear you, Auntie Gail, Maddy’s singing really loud! Be quiet!” You get the idea.
Me: “Maybe you’d better get off the phone, Michael, it’s bedtime now.”
Michael (peering at his digital watch): “It’s not, Auntie Gail, it’s 7:32.”
Me: “Do you know what time it is for me?”
Michael: “No. What time is it?”
Me: “I’m three hours ahead of you. So whatever time it is for you, just add three hours and that’s what time it is for me.”
Me (prompting): “OK, well, forget the minutes for now. What’s seven plus three?”
Michael (giggling): “SEVENTY THREE!”
Me: “Har de har har.”
(The boy is still giggling.)
Me: “OK, well, hold up seven fingers and then hold up three more. What do you get?”
Michael: “I can’t, Auntie Gail! I’m holding the phone!”
Me: *sigh* “Let me talk to Melissa…”
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