who is it

Remember that skit from The Electric Company where the plumber comes to fix the sink, but the homeowner’s parrot “answers” the door? The poor plumber is left exasperated after repeating who it is over and over. It reminded me a little of an exchange I overheard between my husband and his mother the other evening.

On Saturday night B decided to call his dad to wish him a happy father’s day. It was already Sunday where he was. I opted to stay downstairs. This is what I heard:

Hi Mom!

It’s B.

No, B.

B.

As far as we know he is their only son. He blamed VoIP and a bad headset on their end. I couldn’t help but laugh. It isn’t like it was the first time it had happened.

I told him that when I would call my mom, she always knew it was me. And it was before call waiting. And technically it could have been my sister.

There was this one time that I accidentally misdialed “212” instead of “213” and called a woman in New York after midnight. I was quite shocked when my “Hi Mom!” got the reply of, “who is this!” as only a New Yorker could intone. And yes, I am sure she even more shocked. I still feel awful. What if she had given a child up for adoption?

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