Wednesday night I had my first real telephone conversation with Bubby. I say real because although I've talked to Bubby on the phone many times in the past, this was the first time he asked to talk to me on the phone, the first time he requested the phone from Mommy so he could talk to Gramma. And the first time we maintained a steady volley of remarks back and forth, just like real conversations work.

After getting the phone from Mommy, Bubby kicked off our conversation with a drum solo just for me, played on the kitchen garbage can, aka his "big drum." After applause and praise from Gramma, we discussed Mommy's birthday on Tuesday, the Christmas presents under the tree, his Elf on the Shelf (whom he named Jackson), and Santa Claus.

"Sometimes ... sometimes ... sometimes ... SOMEtimes," Bubby said, very carefully considering what came next, "sometimes ... sometimes Santa takes my presents away."

He shared the truth as he knew it, no tattling involved, just a tinge of remorse over the state of his current standing with Santa. Present removal is Megan's method for keeping an obstinate toddler from "losing his mind" throughout the day. When Bubby acts up, he's given the warning that if he doesn't start making good choices, presents will be removed from under the tree, to be replaced only when Bubby displays proper behavior. It seems to be working, for the most part.

I mentioned to Bubby that if he makes good choices, all the presents will stay under the tree. He responded by saying, "I can't close my eyes" and that he's "scared" of "something white up there" above his bed.

Of course, being a fan of Ghost Hunters and a believer in scary white things since I have scary things that happen occasionally in my own house, I worried that Bubby might be seeing ghosts. But according to Megan, at this point in the conversation, Bubby held the phone up for me to "see" the scary white thing in his bedroom. The scary white thing that is his smoke detector. It has a blinking light that scares him at night when he's been told to "close your eyes and go to sleep." Which he has trouble doing, no matter the number of nightlights and books that accompany him to bed.

Because Megan hadn't yet explained the inability to close his eyes in the face of scary white things, I attempted a diversion tactic by talking to Bubby about what Santa may be bringing him, which he says is "lots of cars and trucks." So with visions of cars and trucks dancing in his head, Bubby said, "I gotta play. Buh-bye, Gramma! Love you!" and the phone went back to Megan.

Throughout this first real telephone conversation, Megan told me, Bubby walked around the living room while chatting away, the phone to his ear as he stopped in front of the Christmas tree, headed over to gaze out the window, then off to his room to discuss the scary white thing. I can just imagine his big-boy attitude while on the phone, doing exactly as he did during a conversation with Mommy on the phone while we visited during Thanksgiving (of which the post photos are from).

It warms my heart to see that, like everything else with my grandson, the phone conversations are progressing, becoming more mature. It used to be that Megan would hold the phone to his ear for me to babble to baby Bubby, just so he'd know my voice. Then he started babbling back while Mommy held the phone for him. Soon he wanted to hold the phone himself each time, enjoying the notes of pressed buttons more than the sound of Gramma telling him how much she loves him -- which often resulted in disconnected calls. Now Bubby holds the phone himself and walks around, just like Mommy does while deep in conversation with Gramma.

I look forward to the next step in the progression of Bubby's telephone skills: when he picks up the phone and calls me himself -- on speed dial, of course -- to tell me about anything that scares him, excites him, or makes his day. And to babble the sweetest long-distance babbling this grandma's heart has ever heard, including somewhere along the line, an "I love you, Gramma!"

All prefaced, of course, with a drum solo performed just for Gramma on Bubby's "big drum."

(Curious about the post title? Here's the song it's from, an old fave of mine.)

Holiday question of the day:

If you could write a sequel to be produced for any holiday movie or program, which one would you choose and what would the plot highlights be?

Readers under the age of 40 likely don't get the reference in today's subject line.* And kids under the age of 2 likely won't know what ringy-dingy means or what telephones really sound like (or at least used to). To toddlers, the phone is something Mom carries in her purse, she types on it, and every once in a while it plays a funky tune then Mom holds it up to her ear and talks.

No brrring, brrring or ringy-dingy sounds for little Bubby and his playmates. Phones just don't do that anymore. Kids nowadays (geez, as if THAT doesn't make me sound old!) don't have the old-fashioned pleasure of hearing a house phone go brrring, then seeing that the common response is to pick it up and say "hello." There's no more mimicking that when they play with their pull-toy telephone from Fisher-Price ... although I bet those toy phones aren't even made anymore and are probably considered collectibles on e-Bay.

The lack of land lines stinks for long-distance grandmas. The phone could be a wonderful tool for those of us who live a long distance from our beloved grandbabies. But each time I'm on the (cell)phone with Megan and say, "Hey, can I talk to Bubby?", she hands him the phone and he instantly starts pressing buttons (is he trying to text just like Mom and Dad?). I'll be on my end shouting, "Bubby! Hey, Bubby, it's GRANDMA! Say 'hi' to Grandma! How's my Bubby? I love you!" He'll be on his end grunting and groaning as he struggles with Mom as she tries to keep him from hanging up on me ... which he does every time despite her efforts.

What about as Bubby gets a bit older and isn't compelled to push all the buttons? There's no house phone that I can call and he can pick up, pleasantly surprising me when I was trying to reach Megan. Andthere will be no cute photos of him struggling with the bulky receiver of a wall phone.

And at what age are kids getting their own cell phones nowadays anyway? It seems that with no house phone, each person in the house needs a cell phone of their own. Yeah, that'll be cool when Bubby has his own phone and we can call each other any time, but at his current age, no land line and limited cell phone skills are really limiting my ability to converse with my Bubby.

Thank God for Skype, I guess. Now Megan just needs to get that web camera hooked up to their brand-new computer (that web camera I bought as soon as Bubby was born, the one that crashed each time we tried to Skype because Megan's computer -- and internet bandwidth -- wasn't up to the requirements). We'll give the Jetson's-style telephoning another chance soon. Getting to see and hear Bubby in real-time should make the non-existent landline a moot point, and all my complaints about modern-day telephone communication will end.

And from what I remember about Skype, an old-fashioned BRRRINGing sound notifies users of an incoming call. Maybe Bubby won't be so gyped after all.