Well, maybe Dad is kinder than me. Or maybe it's because he is back at work.
During the summer, I remember that my sanity was threatened by the constant use of my name, you know, MOM. Mom, mom, mom, mom. Lexi tends to begin every sentence, addressed to me, Mom,.... Even when she is giving a 'monologue' of sorts directly to me. And it must be answered audibly for her to continue.
Now that we are in closer, winter courtiers, there's a new trend. It's the tap. It's usually employed while we are cloistered together and I am chatting with a grown-up. (If they want to add to the conversation, they do their best Horshak, and Mrs. Kotter calls on them.) It starts as a soft tap, on my arm or side, and grows as they get impatient while I finish my sentence. And I say they because they often have something to say, at the same time, so I get tapping in HDTV stereo. I know it sounds sweet, gentle. I am here to proclaim that it drives me crazy.
It could be worse. Give 'em a few years and they'll rig some collar that zaps me when they need my immediate attention. It would certainly work.