Monday, February 18, 2008

Come on, hormones!

Poor Elijah. It's hard being the youngest. He keeps trying to grow up past the other kids, and it keeps not working.

For years he would answer the phone and the person on the other end would invariably think it was me. Or Deb. Or one of the other girls. But never Ben. Or Mike. Or any male.

Elijah is now almost 15, the voice is still cracking and squeaking, but he has a new tactic. He answers the phone in his deepest, Randy-Travis-sounding voice. The problem with this is that he can't talk loud enough when he's doing the deep-Randy-Travis-sound, so mostly the person on the other end doesn't hear him, then when he says "hello" louder, they still think it's me.

This morning the phone rang. When Elijah answered it, and this is what I heard:


Excuse me?


What did you say?

No, you must have the wrong number.

He hung up the phone and told me some woman was looking for Varina. That's another homeschooling mom in our church, which I told Elijah. He said, "You know, that did sort of sound like Miss Becky. Well, at least now I'm getting called other people's mothers."

Bless his heart.

Be thankful ~


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