Selective Hearing

Somewhere along yesterday’s adventure, I lost my voice. ‘Tis the Season, and all that. Day 3 of Antibiotics, yada yada.
 This morning, William was trying to rouse me out of bed with various stories and shenanigans. I was in his room, in his bed, with his sound machine still on, and was responding to him in quiet whispers, trying not to strain my vocal chords. He was standing across his room in the doorway. He heard every whisper I said perfectly.
 Let it be hereby known that when he doesn’t respond to me, it is NOT because he didn’t hear me.


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