I was suspicious.
A large box materialised from the bag. And my husband disappeared to find a shovel. For the next few hours he dug a trench and threaded a rather long cable in my garden.
In the windowsill of my kitchen appeared a little white box with a button on the top. And from up inside the cubby, I could suddenly hear the sound of voices.
Yes folks, the cubby now had an intercom.
One with hidden wires so the kids couldn't meddle with it and so we could 'eavesdrop' on them for giggles whenever the fancy struck.
Dan had a smile from ear to ear; he envisaged the kids ordering vegemite sandwiches from inside the cubby.
Our daughter was two. Our son, about 6 months.
In reality, Fern was terrified of it. So terrifed was she, in fact, that we had to remove the said intercom for a few months. But kids grow...
and now? It's kinda fun.
And sometimes, while Im working away in the kitchen I hear "bzzzzzzz" "bzzzzzzzz"
I click the 'on' button in the intercom.
"Yes, fern? How can I help you?"
"mum?" "mum?"
"yes, Fern?"
"mum?"
"mum?"
"why-does-the-elephant-go-so-slow-mum? mum?"
"I dont know Fern, why does he?"
"because he's so biiiiig!" says my daughter.
And when the kids are in there together, I sometimes sneakily turn the intercom on to hear what they are up to. I like to hear their giggles. Fern's bossiness. "no, bub! Thats mine!" Laughter. The odd tears.
An intercom. For the kids. Yes, definitely for the kids.
Every cubby needs an intercom, non?
