Ring my parents, Mr. I-Hate-The-Phone / I’m-Always-1st-At-The-Phone answers.
Da: ‘What is it?’
Me: ‘Mum around?’ -like where else would she be?
Da: ‘I have no idea.’
Me: ‘She’s probably playing with Bobby.’
Da: ‘SUZEEEEEEE! … SUZEEEEEE! … SUZEEEEEE!’ -ad nauseum, baritone bellow only those over 6 feet of height can manage
(You can hear my mother in the background answering each time he rales. ‘I’m here.’ If I can hear her over the receiver, she’s in the next room or same room, can’t be far. You hear as she walks closer, apparently from behind, as he keeps bellowing. Her voice gets louder.)
Mum: ‘I’ve got the phone.’
Da: ‘What? No. I’ve got the phone.’ –they have multiple handsets, as most homes do these days, therefore Mum is holding one and Da has another
At this point, I snort-laugh.
Mum just lets him give her his handset as he can’t fathom the idea of her using another one. Another day, he’d get it but not today.