While at a Bar Mitzvah over Shabbos, the father of the simcha relayed the following story about my parents (From now on, I will be referring to my parents as Mr and Mrs. Jones):
Most of you know that for the first 13 years of our marriage, we could not have children. Finally, approximately 14 years ago we were blessed to find out that we could. I had to wait three months before I could let anyone know. In August I called our long time friends, the Jonses, to inform them of the news.
When Mrs. Jones answered the phone, I asked her if she had any plans for March 8th. She was confused and asked me to repeat the question.
"Do you have any plans for March 8th?"
About three seconds go by when all of a sudden Mrs. Jones lets out a screech that was so loud that I dropped the phone. She ran away from the phone for a second to fetch her husband.
"Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones! Pickupthephonenow! Pickituppickituppickitup!!!"
"What's the problem?"
So Mr. Jones picks the phone up and I go through my whole shpiel again. He didn't get it. I had to come out and say it.
I love my parents.