Me Speak Caveman

Maybe it's because the Paleolithic Diet doesn't sound so terrible, or that when I see those horrible Geico ads I can't help but feel like I'm watching a home movie of a family reunion. I also get a little suspicious when Doug gets home from the office at the end of the day and the first thing he does is drag me around by my hair. The thing that really makes me feel like I'm living with cavemen, though, is participating in conversations with my teenage boys.

The number of uh's, meh's, um's, yah's and yeah's I hear each day assures me that they have indeed mastered their short vowel sounds. This dialect, paired together with the posture they display while sitting on the couch, in the car, or at the kitchen table, makes me think I should be checking them for back hair.

I now realize how much time and energy I've wasted, asking questions in the form of well thought out sentences in an attempt to inject some humor into otherwise monotonous situations. Instead of saying "Hey Zach and Charlie. Dinner is ready and I managed to stay sober long enough to make your favorite ravioli, garlic bread, and salad," I could have just said "Stuff. Here. Chew."

Last night, while celebrating the fact that the kids were locked safely in their rooms, I heard Charlie sneak downstairs to quietly rummage through his backpack. This confused me, since I didn't know that cavemen could sneak, and also because I had been assured multiple times throughout the day that "Duh. Homework done. Me Xbox." It also reminded me that I needed to get better locks.

"What are you doing? Are you looking for something?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

He looked at me like I was a speaking German and grunted, "Huh?"

"Excuse me. The boy in the pajama pants and the buzz cut. Why are you digging through your backpack?" I was very careful about making sure that the question was in English this time.

"Wuh? Huh? Uh..."

I tried one more time. "You. Digging. That. What the. Homework? Me angry."

At this point, he started to show some comprehension, and after he managed to string three, sometimes even four words together at a time, I concluded that homework was indeed forgotten, and this cavewoman broke out the angry eyes. And the angry voice. Gah!