Where on the stair? Right there!

At ten minutes to five in the morning, the festive day commences amid much noise. The noise is more of less continuous during the numerous hours that follow. At some indistinct moment amongst all the hub bub, my son shouts at no-one in particular, “I can hear something.” This strikes me as a little of an understatement under the circumstances. As no-one pays him much heed, he repeats the sentence for everyone’s benefit. Beneficial or otherwise, he grabs me by the hand in a splendid display of ‘hand leading’ and off we clop to nowhere in particular. Once we are on the landing, mid-way up the staircase, he slams on the brakes unexpectedly. Our collision is bumpy but soft, “oopsie…..sorry Mom.”
“That’s o.k. dear………why are we here?”
“Dah noise.”
“Hmm yes it is a bit quieter over here isn’t it?”
“No! Can you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“Dah noise?”
“Which noise?” He splays a fingertip on the wall and looks at it meaningfully. Horray for joint attention. Like many a housebound parent, I keep a close inventory of every stick and stone in the house. I am familiar with every squeak, crack and whine in any cornice. I am so incredibly skilled at this task I can even tell what has broken merely by the sound, even though I may never previously heard the sound of any particular precious item smashed before.

I await enlightenment.

He nods his head towards the artexed surface, the one with the odd hole, scratch and tide mark at a three foot level. “Put your thing on it!” he commands.
“Put my what on what dear?” He models for me, as he puts his shell like against the wall, since the word for ‘ear’ has escaped him. I stand next to my son with my ear stuck to the wall as his eye balls bore into mine, “can yah hear it now?” I hear nothing. I cannot hear anything because I have my ear on a wall. “Listen!” he barks as he places a finger to his lips. I listen. Suddenly I hear it too, all sorts of unfamiliar yet familiar noises that I cannot for the life of me identify.

“What is it mom?”
“I’m sure I haven’t got the foggiest?” I only hope that there is insufficient room for a mouse, or mice or a nest of mice with many, many little relatives. He looks at me with an expression of vague disappointment until he has a much better idea, a brilliant solution to his problem, “I know! I ask Dad!” he abandons me on landing in search of someone far more useful, who he finds at the bottom of the stairs as they collide, “oopsie, sorry Dad.”
“That’s o.k. No damage done. What’s going on here then, you’re missing all the fun?”
“He wants to know what that noise is, the one in the wall?” I summarize with a hint of sarcasm and a tad of obtuse.
“Oh that’s just the vibrations.”
“?”
“You know, the noises outside are amplified, like traffic, cars and the like. It’s the same as when you put a seashell to your ear.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“Of course Mom…..like dad said.”
“But there isn’t any traffic. It’s Christmas day.”
“Maybe not down our street, but we’re only a few miles from the motorway.”
“?”
“He….he…..he means freeway mom.”
“Oh thank you dear.”

Go on….....…try it….....…..stick your ear to an outside wall and tell me what you hear?

Wordless Wednesday #5

Ms. Wordless Wednesday is on my case, again.

“Geez Madeline, we talked about this last week. I thought I made myself clear?”

“Absolutely transparent.”

“Well?”

“Yes?”

“Why have you done it again?”
“What?”
“Words! You said you’d try and skip the words this time.”
“I did.”
“Did what?”
“Try. I tried very hard, but I failed.”
“Too right Missy. You would try the patience of a saint.”
“What other purpose do I exist for?”
“Alright then. This is worse that last week's.”
“I know.”
“Well?”
“You need a few words?”
“Well….....maybe just a hint? I know! You’re trying to be patriotic even though you’re really a fake.”
“Dual, not fake. I’m a citizen in America, whilst simultaneously managing to hold onto my serfdom in England.”
“Whatever. It’s a rusty old basketball hoop.”
“Do you know I never noticed the rust?”
“What?”
“Well I noticed it was a basket ball hoop but I didn’t notice the rust.”
“Geez. So what are you saying? You’re rich enough to install an expensive professional basket ball hoop? Big deal!”
“Ooo I like that one. Please push the rich myth. I like that one a lot!”
“What?”
“Nothing. No, it came with the house when we bought it. I thought it was hideous at the time, wanted to rip it out, unsightly lump.”
“Lump? You need to study your grammar.”
“Don’t give me that! The only collective noun that American’s know is ‘bunch.’”
“Excuse me! Are you denigrating the American way of life?”
“Never. Perish the thought!”
“Well it sounded pretty darned close to an insult to me.”
“I tease, gently, I hope?”
“Hmm.”
“It’s blatantly unfair to be beastly to Americans.”
“Well, I don know, everybody else in the world gives us a bad press.”
“Did I touch a nerve?”
“Hmm. Well. Where were we, you foreigner?”
“Basket ball hoops, or netball, as we prefer to refer to them.”
“Oh come on! Not that again! Can you just drop it?”
“Consider it dropped, I know defeat when continents collide.”
“Right. So, they’re not afraid of rust maybe they……..are too short? You want to rip it out and put a kiddy sized one in there, because you just have money to burn?”
“Close. I wonder if I should have done a before and after?”
“A before and after what?”
“Before, it was disguised by 40 feet of Morning Glory or after, like it is now.”
“You grew Morning Glory over your basket ball hoop? You are foreign Missy.”
“A foot on each shore. I tore off all the vine later, to reveal it in all it’s rustiness.”
“Growing a plant on a basket ball hoop is gonna make it rust.”
“It was entirely glorious whilst it lasted though. 20 foot of leafiness and so many blooms. It was magnificent considering the clay soil.”
“You are so off topic.”
“Sorry I have a tendency to digress. It wasn't popular with the neighbours.”
“Did they throw you out of the housing association?”
“No we’re unincorporated, you know, no sidewalks and policed by the Sheriff.”
“I know what unincorporated means! I’m an American!”
“Oh yes, sorry I forgot for a moment. Americans make up 5% of the world’s population, so 95% of people think of businesses rather than planning committees.”
“Ok. So what are you trying to tell me? Your kids are afraid of rust?”
“No, at least not so far as I’m aware. Maybe I ought to check? Maybe not. Actually, my point was that they have no interest in any sports, ergo no fear.”
“Ergo? Please, spare me the pain.”
“Alright then. Are you ready?”
“I am never ready, you’re a real head case.”
“Well it’s just that they noticed it.”
“Noticed it? Noticed what?”
“The big pole with the basket ball hoop on top. After…..what…….8 years in this house, they noticed it was there.”
“O.k. so they’re vision impaired? What?”
“Kind of. In a way. It just sort of ……..came into focus I suppose.”
“What?”
“Well we came home, I parked in the garage, they all ran from the car as if their feet were in flames, and before I had the chance to shut the garage door they all ran out into the driveway screaming ‘ball.’
“Ball?”
“Well there are significant speech delays you know?”
“ I remember. So what?”
“Well, they found a ball, or two.”
“Yes?”
“ They started hurling balls at the pole, or rather the basket.”
“Yes?”
“Well, they’ve never done that before.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“A new first then?”
“Spot on!”
"Outside too!"
"Exactly."
“So you’re feeling a bit weird?”
“Spacey.”
“Where did that one come from then?”
“Not a clue.”
“Did they play for a whole minute?”
“At least 7.”
“Awesome!”
“Indeed.”
“So it’s kind of like the shock of giving birth?”
“Almost every day.”
“Worth the wait?”
“Totally.”
“So this is part of their new skill set?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“The generalization thingyummy?”
“Right.”
“Snapshot.”
“Yep.”
“Soooo .............you”ll try harder next week?”
“You bet ya!”
“No words?”
“I’ll try.”