Hello?

Whenever I refer to my children as my minions it's because I was secretly hoping that they'd be a lot more helpful than they actually are by now.  Like any super villain I am unsatisfied with the slave labour they provide.  Let's face it Skelator was never satisfied with Beast Man's job performance, and all I wanted was for them to fetch me things: bring me slippers, wine, do my bidding..usual super villain progeny stuff and they've failed miserably.  The most we've managed is that Molly will fetch her own shoes so you can put them on her or, but she's generally retrieving them after she hurled them across the room and yelled, "Uh-Oh." as if it was some sort of accident.  Sometimes, if they are feeling generous they'll hand their sibling some milk or raisins, but that's been the upper limit...until now.

First off, this no call list thing is garbage.  I still get so many telemarketing calls and most calls come in half way through nap time or about 30 minutes after we've gotten Molly and Jack to sleep for the night, serving no purpose but to annoy us and provide us with angry screaming babies.  When I was a kid a friend of my mother's boasted about how she used to keep a whistle by the phone to blow into the ears of the telemarketer.*

Jack and his Thomas the Train cell phone....that is constantly stuck on number 8

When I was a teenager, a friend of mine secured a job as a telemarketer for a local dance studio.  She was offering one free dance lesson and I guess after they got them in for their lesson it would be up to the instructors to provide the hard sell, time-share worthy sales pitch.  It was a terrible job and the people she called were ruthless, however one strange trend showed up each and every night she worked: the number of people who would tell her that they had no legs and hang up the phone.  Apparently in the 1990's over 2% of the population called had no legs.**

This week Jack has been promoted to first assistant for his new services as minion.  I have to say that I'm a little disappointed in Miss Molly, I was always convinced that the force was strong with this one, and that we could rule the dark side together, maybe next month.

The boy is obsessed with remote controls, phones, baby monitors or anything with buttons that makes noise, so with call display as our friend, Chris started to hand him the phone whenever a telemarketer call comes in.   The result?  He giggles a lot in his low throaty Beavis type way and then presses a series of buttons in the telemarketers ear.***  It's not quite a whistle, but he's finally starting to earn his keep.




*I know that the job of a telemarketer sucks, especially when some angry mom is blowing a whistle in your ears, that no one wants to talk to you and no one aspires to be a telemarketer when they grow-up.  That being said I still don't want you to call me.
**I will not be held responsible if this statistic is not accurate.
***I recognize that this probably says something profound about Chris and my maturity level.