Vyolette and the Cone of Silence

My resolution was simple. Get more writing done while still being Mother Extraordinaire to Daughter #5. She's the last one home and when she boards that giant Twinkie of a school bus next August I'll have books to write and blogs to pen. But until then, I need a little help, thus The Cone of Silence. I've upgraded since the last pair but the concept is the same: a visual signal to my offspring that when the Cone of Silence headphones are on my head -- no pleas for juice, telling me that the dog has once again rolled in raccoon poo, or that while picking their nose they've poked their brain. It can wait until I finished a chapter. Unless it's the raccoon poo.

Vyolette Stella has different ideas about my resolution. When she sees the Cone of Silence headphones on and me seated at my desk, it's her signal that I'm suddenly working a drive-thru and desperately needs her order.

:: Grabbing mic ::

"Hello! I would like to order a pizza. A pizza with pineapples, and two cakes, a seahorse, and Justin Beiber. And a Diet Coke."

"Beiber? Vyo, I need to work on this. Can we play later?"

"PFffffffffffffffffffSHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

"What was that?"

"I can't hear you. You need to talk into the speaker thing."

"A mic." I adjust the mic to be near my mouth and not inside hers. "Vy, how about you work on a puzzle until I'm done with this one page?"

"HONEY! I need that pizza quick! I'm dyiiiiiiiiiiing here." She clutches her stomach and rolls on the floor, only to be licked by the dog. "Send help. Fading fast."

"Vyolette..." Grabbing the headphones off my head, she wandered the room.

"Hello. We need a chicken order... Hey Mom, this isn't plugged in.... And some salmon and a Christmas tree so we can blast off. We need a CHICKEN!"

So the writing part of the resolution is taking a little more effort on my part but the headphones work – at least until she finds that Christmas tree.

Vyolette has a rabid fanbase at facebook where I seriously think my friends just tolerate me for more stories of ice pickles. This column was originally posted at An Army of Ermas.