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What we want to hear and what we're hearing may not be the same

Subhead
On Second Thought
Lead Summary
By
Lori Sorenson, editor

For Christmas we gave Matt wireless headphones to listen to the TV without interference from, well, us, essentially.
Carson can practice percussion or play the piano and I can be on the phone or clattering dishes and the xBox downstairs can play at full volume without interfering with Matt’s hockey game.
It was the best gift ever. He can hear; we don’t have to “keep it down.”
But I’ve also noticed when the headphones are attached to his head it’s my cue to not initiate conversation. … that he was in his quiet place, not to be disturbed.
“Did you talk to the electrician today?”
Nothing.
“Did you call about those bulbs?”
Still nothing.
“Hello?”
Still nothing.
“Ugh.”
And, then, pulling off the headphones, “What? Did you say something?”
“Never mind.”
It’s OK. We wouldn’t have gifted the headphones if we didn’t want him to enjoy some uninterrupted time on the couch.
What’s becoming clear to me, though, is that the headphones have become an escape, whether we’re into a TV show or not.
“I need some help finding some addresses,” I mentioned on my way through the living room.
Headphones were on, so there was no response.
“Hello?”
Still nothing.
He was watching a crucial play in a Minnesota Wild hockey game, so I left him alone until a commercial break.
“Can you get me those addresses?” I asked again, slightly louder.
Nothing.
Then, in a slightly softer voice, I said, “I’m having a bowl of ice cream; want me to dish you up some?”
Instantly, the headphones were off and the response was out, “Sure. Thanks.”
I knew it.
What I wasn’t expecting, though, was the 14-year-old to come bounding up from his downstairs xBox game.
“I’ll have chocolate syrup on mine,” he said heading for the spoons.
This was after more than one casual shout down the stairs about bringing his dirty clothes to the laundry room.
What had become of us? What had happened to our family communication?
I have often entertained the idea of feigning deafness when my family needs me.
“What’s for supper?”
Silence.
“Can I have some money to go to the basketball game?”
Silence.
I could do that, but I would be “stooping” to that level of bad behavior.
Instead, I decided my next Christmas gift would be a universal volume control that runs the TV headphones and the downstairs xBox.
When something (me) needs attention, their little world will briefly fall silent so they can properly (promptly) respond.
What a wonderful world that will be.

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