Effective communication is important for so many reasons. Throughout history, poor communication has changed the outcome of wars and shaped major policies. I remember a recent piece of Arkansas state legislation being written in a way that allowed babies to enter into marriage. The legislature had to cut into their recess time to fix the blunder. In my personal life, miscommunication has only served to irritate my family members and me.

Yesterday, my baby brother landed his dream job. This means that after many years of living modestly and paying for school, he's going to live a little higher on the hog, and we're all thrilled for him. "I think it's safe to say that Uncle Matt is going to buy you a pony for Christmas," I told my kids excitedly last night. Luke misinterpreted what I said to mean, "Tomorrow is Christmas! Candy and presents await you in the morning! And don't forget to be really difficult at bedtime, it's a Christmas Eve tradition!" Needless to say, Luke woke up asking if Santa Claus had come to see us, and if presents were under the tree. When the bad news that Christmas is still nine and a half months away was broken to him, he had a royal fit, stormed into my parents' room, and tuned out the world around him by watching television. He then started to complain of a headache. I'm not surprised, as this is the way I handle disappointment, too.

My dad came in to watch cartoons with him. After a few minutes, Dad shouted, "OH, it's 'BLUES CLUES'! I thought it was 'BOOZE CRUISE'. Nevermind, I don't want to watch this!"

Later, as we were preparing to make our departure to our new home in Mississippi, Mom and Dad started talking about our bill. Something about how many paper towels we had used, how many hours of babysitting services I had wracked up, water bills, administrative costs, etc. As they were yukking it up and I was losing my innocence about where clean laundry comes from, I realized that we had had a miscommunication about the seven-week vacation I was supposed to have been on. I'm not a totally unreasonable person, though. As long as there's a deep military discount, I'm happy to pay for the story hours and the and the floors they're going to have to replace, the drywall they're going to have to patch, the electricity we used, the daytime excursions we took, the personal days used because if the germs we shared, the stamps I borrowed, internet access...