My husband and son have many things in common.
They would both happily spend the entire day in their pyjamas if they could.
Every rainy Saturday afternoon is as a DVD box set opportunity.
They laugh at their own jokes.
Neither one likes to be offered ‘suggestions’ while constructing Lego.
They can both smell a square of chocolate from a mile away.
They believe that whoever shouts loudest gets his way.
Dancing is their moment to showcase made-up karate chops and spin kicks.
But, there is one other thing they have in common that drives me nuts. I could be chopping veg in the kitchen, tidying toys away in the playroom, or actually be in the shower, when I hear my name called, followed by a question that usually starts with ‘Can you get me…’, ‘Where is the…’, or ‘What’s for…’
If I do not respond in a timely manner, my name and the accompanying question will simply be repeated at a higher volume, usually from the comfort of the sofa or bed where they are no doubt reclining at the time.
I have abandoned risottos, skipped crucial lather/rinse/repeat steps, and trod on many teeny tiny pieces of Star Wars Lego, to stand before them and wait to hear whatever purpose I have been summoned for.
‘Where is the remote? Can you pass it to me?’
‘What’s for dinner?’
‘Can I have an apple/cup of tea/biscuit/iPad?’
I have told them that the answer will always be no when the question is shouted to me from another room.
So far it is working, except now I have not one shadow following me everywhere I go, but two.