Practically perfect in every way

(No, not me.)

“Mary, Nissa’s crying.”

I stand at the foot of the stairs, listening. Nothing.

“I don’t think so, Emily. I don’t hear anything.”

“Well, I can hear her.”

Pause. I listen for another full minute. “No, hon, I don’t think she’s crying.” I’m being polite here. I’m certain she’s not. My vision has been iffy since fourth grade, my memory is fading fast, but I have — and have always had — excellent hearing. There is not a peep from upstairs. The kid is NOT crying. She’s not even rolling over in her sleep.

Not.A.Peep. I say as much.

Emily is unmoved. “Well, I can hear her. I have very good ears.”

“Yes, Emily. I’m sure you do. You are astounding in every way.”

Please note: I am not sneering here. This is not crude sarcasm, intended to confuse and humiliate poor Emily. It is merely irony. Ham-fisted irony, I admit, no neat subtlety or nuance, but irony, and intended entirely for my own amusement.

Amusement which is increased a hundredfold when Emily takes me totally at face value. She nods sagely.

“Yes, I willy am.”