My husband earned a prize of sorts at work. He was invited to choose a piece of crap from a catalog. He received a similar invitation a few years ago, which is how we ended up with our Dustbuster (AKA cat-litter-sucker-upper - its sole use in our home). While AIG executives enjoy their bajillion dollar bonuses, our little clan makes do with small household appliances. What did he choose from the catalog du crap this time, you ask? A set of walkie-talkies.

The package arrived in the mail a couple days ago. P opened it, inserted batteries in the hatch of each unit, and handed one walkie-talkie to the kid. I don't know which of them was more excited about this little prize. I never saw the catalog myself, but I'm hard-pressed to believe that there was nothing even vaguely useful in there. I questioned the wisdom of his selection. He just kept repeating, "But it's got an eleven-mile range!"

Him: We can use these if we get separated at the state fair!
Me: Or, we could just use our cell phones.
Him: Yeah, but that costs money and these don't.
Me: Actually, no, it doesn't cost us anything to call each oth-
Him: Or when you take the kid to the park!
Me: You're right. These will be very useful.

He couldn't be convinced that we have no earthly use for walkie-talkies, so I conceded.

Now, every evening, the two of them split up and then talk to each other on their walkie-talkies.

"Father! What are you doing?!"
"I'm watching TV!"
"Father! What are you doing now?!"

It's extra fun for me, because I can hear A in the other room yelling into the walkie-talkie, so essentially I get to hear everything twice. They also tell each other knock-knock jokes via walkie-talkie. And sometimes, they push the button just to laugh.

Why I say "one" when someone asks me how many children I have is beyond me.