I was sitting in a big chair in my husband’s den, watching him play darts when the phone rang.
Me (having looked at Caller ID): Centre of the Universe, how may I direct your call?
Son: Um, WHERE have I reached?
Me: The Centre of the Universe.
Son: Oh, then I'd like to speak with Jesus please.
Me: I'm sorry sir, Jesus is unavailable at the moment. May I take a message for Him?
Son: Yes. Tell Him the King of Egypt called and he'd like his robe back.
Me: The King of Egypt called and he'd like his robe back?
Me: Alright, and would you please tell the King of Egypt he has a hair appointment on Monday at four o'clock?
Son: Monday at four? Sweet. I'll tell him. Oh, and one more thing ma'am....
Son: Would you please tell Jesus I can't make the board meeting, that I will be in a supper meeting with the people at Clairsville?
Me: You have a supper meeting with the people at Clairsville, right.
Son: Thank you, ma'am. Have a nice evening.
Me: You're welcome sir. Have a nice evening.
I wish I had captured the expression on my husband’s face after I ended the phone call. It was one of incredulous confusion. I smiled sweetly at him. He said, “What WAS that? Translation, please?”
Translation: Son won't be home for supper, he's at Clair's house, and Mum made an appointment for a hair cut, as requested.
I love that boy’s guts!