They only find time to talk to me when they run out of “load”, as in “Papa, pahingi pang load.”
I don’t blame them for not finding me a good conversationalist. I speak 10 languages, seven of those I don’t understand, so what can I expect from the kids?
My wife fares less in the talking department. She has a hypnotic voice. When she talks to me, I fall asleep.
There’s not much conversation in the house. For the most part, we have a silent home, which became the inspiration of Austrian priest Joseph Mohr to compose the lyrics of “Silent Night”.
Sorry, I’m just talking to myself…