Lucas and the baby

Did something I'd never done before last week. Our magazine had been waiting to hear back from Australia captain Lucas for a pre-Asia Cup interview. He was meant to call 'the other guy' but had been caught up. About 6pm I'm standing in the kitchen with baby slop going everywhere, her face, the floor, deep down into the creases of the high chair.Nearby two boys are at war, the din like the dying moments of the Manchester derby...
The phone rings and it's a private number. I must have been distracted because I hardly ever answer those.
"Hi Tony it's Lucas N, is now a good time?" I made a flash judgement, literally minutes of research had indicated the man is sharing his life with twins under three... I'd never done it before... "Ah no actually, I'm just feeding the baby, could you call back in 15?"... "Ah yeah sure, do you want longer?" It was a nervous 15 minutes spent staring at the avocado enciusted mug of a 10 month old while Billy Bragg lyrics jolted around my head.... "Once upon a time at home I sat beside the telephone, waiting for someone to call me through, when at last it didn't ring I knew it wasn't you."
I imagined the player telling his agent and the whole careful negotiation falling to the floor with chunks of half chewed meatballs. The nearby war broke into a moment of golden truce. Baby R scoffed her last. And the phone rang. Nice bloke, that Lucas.I'm not sure a 25-year-old without a kid would have bothered ringing back. It was something I'd never done before and I don't think I'd do it again.