It's a good thing I have a new little boy in my life to distract me, otherwise I might be good and depressed about the lack of communication I'm receiving from my original little boy. Since his move to Denver almost two months ago, I've calculated that I've talked to my son a total of seventeen and a half minutes. (You might think I'm exaggerating but Skype and my cell phone do not lie.)
I've tried phoning, texting, video messages, and a subtle blend of both irate and pathetic voicemails. I've given up on e-mails and/or Facebook messaging as they don't give me the personal touch I'm craving (and he doesn't answer them anyway) and am now contemplating using the only two communication methods I haven't tried - Western Union and smoke signals.
Considering the fact that he has avoided responding to either of his parents or his new-mother sister's impassioned pleas to give her a call, I'm beginning to worry. I know he's one of those quiet types (if the average man speaks 3,000 words a day, somebody out there must be talking all day to make up for my guy) so I wasn't expecting daily (at this point I'd settle for bi-weekly) conversations filling me in on what he's up to, but c'mon, does he have to act as if he's part of the Witness Protection program?
Since my mama didn't raise no stupid children, I've decided to seek out the attention of someone who might actually appreciate it. That's why I've seen my new grandson nine out of the ten days he's been on this earth. So far, he's been as chatty as my son but he seems relatively happy to see me, pays attention when I speak to him, and doesn't seem to mind my peppering him with kisses and incessant cuddling.
Some people know a good thing when they see it.
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