A small face flashes onscreen, then nothing. Oh. It’s their ceiling. Overheard “NO, I WANT TO HOLD THE PHONE MYSELF.”
“What did you do today—did you go to school?”
I see the back of a running boy. His mother has commandeered the phone. He turns and disappears up the stairs. I look at the walls of the staircase as his mother follows.
“Are those your trains?”
“YES.” I watch as he puts one through a tunnel. He reaches for the phone. His mother says urgently “DON’T PUSH THE RED BUTTON!”
The screen goes black. I sigh. The phone rings. I answer and see a small, impish face, grinning widely.
“Watch me press the red button!”
I am so thankful for modern technology.