TELEPHONITIS

Jack O'Neill remembered the challenge of dealing with childhood illnesses from his time with Charlie. So he was prepared when the twins got sick. But he wasn't prepared for one particular illness which seemed to afflict his daughter – telephonitis.

General George Hammond, Ret., the twins' honorary grandfather called the O'Neill home from Washington every Saturday morning. Supposedly this was a business call, taking the place of a face to face briefing with the head of Homeworld Security, but Jack knew that was just a cover. Hammond was really calling for his weekly update from Grace O'Neill.

Grace, recently turned five-years-old, was a magpie, born with the gift of gab. She loved to talk from her earliest days of jabbering baby talk. As her vocabulary increased, so did her incessant verbal communication. In the past six months, the telephone had become her best friend. On the phone she could talk with anybody about anything and the one of the other end of the line was a captive audience, at least until mommy or daddy came to their rescue.

It occurred to Jack that Grace's chattering might be genetically related to her mother's affliction – technobabble. The fact that Sam wasn't overly concerned with how much time Grace spent on the phone at such an early age seemed to support his theory of a genetic connection. For her part, Sam was certain that Grace had just inherited her father's talent for comedy; after all, when she did finally rescue whoever was on the other end of the line, more often than not they were laughing. And Jake, well Jake found the whole thing highly annoying. Grace's endless chitchat made it hard for him to get a word in edgewise, especially with Grandpa George.

Today was a case in point. The phone rang as usual, right around 1000 hours. No matter who answered the phone first, Grandpa George always asked to speak with the twins. Not too long ago, he'd figured out that talking to Jake first was a good idea, since little Grace, or "motor-mouth" as Jake had christened her, tended to use up most of the available time.

The worst case scenario was on days like today when Grace got to the phone first, off like a shot at the first sound of the ringer.

"I've got it, Daddy! Hi, Grandpa George. It's Saturday you know and we don't go to school today and mommy is taking us shopping for clothes and to McDonalds and then we're going to the playground… unless it rains…then we go to the gym with mommy and…"

By now Jake had reached the phone, with Jack just behind him, smiling to himself at his little Princess' enthusiasm. She had stopped to catch her breath and there was actually a pause, during which George must have gotten a few words in and miracle of miracles, Grace seemed to be listening intently. Then she began again, now speaking more slowly, apparently in response to Grandpa George. "Okay, Grandpa, I'll look for the star tonight with daddy's telescope… I know I can find it …mommy studies stars you know….she'll help…"

"Okay, Grace, Mommy's turn to talk with Grandpa George," Sam said, walking up behind her daughter.

"But Mommy..," Grace protested briefly, before she saw the serious 'mom' look that meant business. "Okay, bye Grandpa George. Love you."

As Grace asked her daddy to be sure to look for the special star tonight, Sam greeted George Hammond, the family friend she still called "Sir" on occasion.

"Morning, Sir. Sorry, Grace got to the phone before we could catch her."(Both Jack and Sam were starting to realize not every one was going to appreciate the 'cuteness' factor of Grace's telephonitis.) "I guess it's time we tried to break her of that habit."

"Not with me, Sam," the older man said, barely containing his laughter. "She reminds me of another little girl I used to call on Saturday mornings, long before she started to call me 'Sir'."

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