I’ve always thought that I speak English, and that my wife speaks English. We understand each other well enough, and other people who speak English understand me. And damn it, this is America, and I frequently hear people say, “We speak English in America!”So then why the hell can’t my kids understand me when I tell them to do something?If I had a dollar for every time the past week or two that I’ve had to tell my kids to do something more than once, I’d have enough damn money to go somewhere exotic, where people don’t speak English!And since we’re not idiotic, absentee parents, we’ve chosen not to beat our kids into submission. So in the parental bag of tricks, that leaves only our wits and guile. Luckily, we have those in spades.In order to get my kids to listen better, I’m going to stop listening to them. By my calculations, it’ll only take a few well-placed “Oh, I didn’t hear you” responses before they begin to catch my drift.And the best part? I’m actually sort of looking forward to it!We’ve got four kids—aged 17, 10, 8 and 3—so my wife and I make a variety of demands each day. You’d think that at some age kids would become better listeners, but that doesn’t seem to happen until they get much older. Like 30.Until then, let’s have some fun being parents who don’t listen!My oldest daughter works at the YMCA and every week her work schedule changes. She’s constantly saying things like, “Pick me up at 6:45 tonight.”Easy enough, right? Well after I put on my kid ears, I’ll fail to hear the 6:45 part. So when 6:45 arrives and there’s no one there to pick her up, maybe she’ll think about better listening skills, or maybe even learn a little geography as she tries to navigate her way home.If nothing else she’ll thank us someday for providing her with a good story to tell her own kids. “You think you have it bad? Your two-bit grandparents used to leave me at work on purpose. Then I’d have to walk 10 miles home, while worrying whether some loser in a creepmobile was going to pick me up and take me God-knows-where. Count your blessings, kid!”My oldest son brings a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to school for lunch every day. Even though we know this, my wife and I always ask him what he wants for lunch the next day, as if he’s going to surprise us and ask for a Brussels sprout and beet salad.I’d love to see the look on his face when I misunderstand his standard “peanut butter and jelly sandwich” reply for “refried beans and tomato paste sandwich.” The colors should be similar, so it’s possible he won’t even notice until he takes a bite.“Who made my lunch today?” he’d ask when he got home. And my wife would say, “Dad, why?” And he’d go on to explain in great detail the horrific sandwich given to him, and how it was so disgusting, and how he couldn’t even eat it.And then at the end my wife would say nothing, and my son would say, “Mom!” when he realized she hadn’t listened to a word he said.My younger son is the most athletically-inclined of all my children. He’s been training himself to do pull-ups recently, and he’s been obsessed with planking for almost a year. He’s always asking us to time him to see how long he can plank.So maybe next time he’s planking, and he tells me to time him, I’ll say “okay” and then just sit there. He’ll plank for two, three, four minutes, and eventually become so tired that he collapses chest-first onto the floor. He’ll look up at me, out of breath, and ask, “How long was that?”And I’ll say, “Was I supposed to be timing you?”And don’t think that just because she’s three-years-old that my youngest daughter is off the hook. Oh no! She loves to go to the park, so maybe next time she asks, I’ll say yes, and then after she’s put her shoes on and she’s waiting by the door, and she’s calling my name to bring her outside, I’ll just act like I don’t even hear her.Eventually she’ll get so impatient that she’ll come upstairs and hunt me down. And inevitably she’ll yell, “Dad, when are we going to the park?” and I’ll say, “What?” like we didn’t just talk about it.Doesn’t that sound fun?This post is so lonely. It wants to meet some new people. Can't you please share it? You don't want to be responsible for a lonely post, do you?+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++By the way, if you like what you're reading here, you should like my Facebook page, Brett Baker Writes.You should subscribe to this blog, don't you think? That way you'll never forget to come back. Forgetting is bad. So why don't you just type your email address in the box and click the "create subscription" button. I'm not going to send you a bunch of junk, and you can ditch me any time you want.