Yes, Yes. Sometimes I DO laugh AT the children.
My sweetie sits crossed-legged on the floor, organizing a playlist, playing with various dials and buttons, happily mucking about as he prepares to listen to some music. Harry has been bombarding him with a steady stream of questions and comments about his activities, to which he has responded with his usual gentle grace and patience. (He's definitely the patient one in this partnership!) "Are you going to listen to music now? You have a lot of CD's. I don't gots so many at my house. Is that your music? Why are your CD's onna wall like that? Why are you putting that there? Why are you pushing that button? There are lights on that box. Why are some lights green but those lights are red? There's a hole there. What do you put in that hole? Will you be turning it up? Will it be loud? Do you need to wear your headphones? " Now, however, my Patient Half is reaching for the headphones, and I decide to rescue him from further verbiage. "Well, Harry, he's putting his headphones on now, so he won't be able to hear you. Come over here and read a book with me." Harry is amenable, but he has a concern. "Is he going to keep his headphones on?" "Well, yes he is," I say, and then address his concern, "So he can't hear you right now." I have, however, misunderstood his focus. "He needs to keep the headphones on because that is quiet. I don't like loud." At which point my sweetie puts the lie to my claims of his deafness, and snorts. "Yes," I say warmly for his benefit, while beaming at Harry, "a little pool of silence is our Harry." Another snort. "A veritable sea of tranquility," adds the snorting one. "The king of quiet." Harry beams while the adults convulse into guffaws. It's nice when grown-ups get it, after all.