Hello, Jackson's

I called the house the other day to talk to Currie. I heard the phone pickup, and the kid's TV show in the background, but that's it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, daddy" Rylie chirped back.

"Where's your mother"

"Next door feeding Cramer" (the neighbor's mutt)

"Well, what are you doing..." a typical Father/10-year-old-daughter conversation ensued, ending with "Okay, have your mom call me when she gets back"

"Okay daddy," And with that I hung up the phone.

Five minutes later I hadn't received a call back, so I called he house again. This time, same thing: phone picks up, kids in the background, that's it.

"Hello?" I say again.

"Hi, daddy" I'm in the twilight zone.

"Where's your mother?"

"Downstairs," she says, unenthusiastically.

"Please take her the phone."

Currie comes on the line, "Yeah?"

"Rylie just answered the phone. Twice"

"Yeah," she says, unimpressed, "she does that all the time."

At this point I'm starting to think that either I've gone crazy, or that moron Ashton Kutcher ran out of celebrities and has moved on to me.

"WHATDOYOUMEANSHEDOESITALLTHETIME, SHE'STHREE, SHECANTANSWERTHEPHONE"

"I came home and the phone was off the hook, I figured she was just playing with it"

Because she was bored with the matches and scissors? "Well could you work with her on the 'hello' and the hanging up?"

"Yeah, and we should probably get her a message pad."

Great idea. Really.Great.Idea.