Family Daze: Impossible communication with kids

I don’t know about you, but my kids are not what you’d call big talkers. They can go the whole day without saying more than a handful of words, mostly one syllable.

Okay, okay. I know some parents would kill for this sort of problem. There are some kids out there who’ll come home and rattle off not only what they did all day, but what they ate for lunch, what everybody else ate for lunch, who’s wearing skinny jeans instead of boot legs, and how the math teacher’s teal skirt didn’t match her mauve Monolo pumps.

My kids sum up their entire day in one word: fine.

Of course things weren’t always this way. When they were younger, I wished for the day they’d quit talking. I’d be driving down the street and hear a preschool update like: "Johnny spit his cranberry juice on the slide at recess and it looked like a blood. Jenna grabbed the one legged doll in the playhouse and made Bethany cry by swinging it around by its only leg and saying, "Nah, nah, nah, you are a poopy face." And Miss Linda got mad and gave her a time out in the block area. I found a ladybug in the sandbox so I put her in my pocket, but she flew away during the nap. Jason brought his stuffed giraffe again for sharing and everyone knows you’re not supposed to bring the same thing again."

And on. And on. And on.

Now, I admit, I’m a bit jealous of parents of Talkers. They always know what’s going on because, you see, they have reliable informants. They are on top of things like, say, dates and deadlines of science projects and special school holidays. While those of us with Non-talkers sneak around like Mata Hari trying to piece together what bits of information our children let slip.

Oh sure, I’ve read tons of pop psychology articles on how to make kids talk. I’ve read how to talk so kids will listen and how to listen so kids will talk and have seen dozens of pictures of chatty families sitting around the dinner table discussing politics and the life quantum continue or something.

But no matter how much information I read, the transcript of our dinner conversations go something like this:

Me: So, tell me about your day.

My son: I went to school and came home.

Me: What else happened?

Kid: Uh, I ate lunch.

Me: Can you tell me more about it?

Him: It was pizza.

Me: No, I mean your DAY.

Him (sighing): But I already told you.

Then I read an article that suggested I try drawing my kids out by telling them about my day first. But I probably don’t need to tell you all that did was bring up a whole new set of problems that are too wretched and depressing to go into here.

So this brings us back to the original problem: How do I get my kids to tell me what’s going on? Simple: I don’t.

Instead, in one of my more brilliant ah-ha moments, I called my friend Julie, a mother of two teenage Talkers.

"Hey," I said, "Can you tell me when the next school dance is?"

"May third, but I’m not sure of the time. Try Gina."

Gina led me to Susan, who told me the place and then passed me onto Carol for the dress code.

Now this may seem like a haphazard sort of system, but trust me there’s a very clear etiquette at work here.

And, yes, I know that there are much more practical and politically correct solutions out there. But sometimes, in order to keep up with kids, you have to settle and just use your wits.

That, and a reliable phone tree.