The other day my daughter wanted to tell me the entire plot of The Princess Bride…again. I’ve read the book. We’ve watched the movie together. I bought her the DVD. She knows that I know the story.

I could respond by reminding her that I’ve seen it, read it, know it. At which point her eyes will well up with tears, she’ll get very quiet, far away. So, what’s really going on here?

Last night, as we were watching TV, my wife asked me to tell her the time. No big deal, except…right below the TV is a VCR that displays the time. And odd as it may seem, I’m one of those guys who knows how to program the clock on our VCR. The time displayed 8 inches below the TV screen is, in fact, accurate.

I could respond by reminding her that the clock is right there in front of us, as easy for her to see as for me. At which point her eyes will well up with tears, she’ll get very quiet, far away. So, what’s really going on here?

Tonight we’re playing Parcheesi, my daughter, my wife and me. There’s teasing, yelling, tears and laughter. We’re viciously pursuing winning at any cost. Our usually loving, caring family unit has turned into an every-person-for-themselfpack of Parcheesi sharks.

I could respond by reminding everyone that, in our home we treat each other with kindness and respect. At which point their eyes will roll, the laughter will dry up and everyone will get quiet, far away. So, what’s really going on here?

I have a theory that almost every conversation can be deconstructed to mean either “Do you love me?” or “Do you know I love you?” We reach out to each other with the most effective tool we have, our words. But it’s too risky to just put your love out there. What if it’s spurned? What if the person we’re emotionally reaching out towards pushes away? So we send out “trial balloons“.

If we knew that each of those odd little missives were cries for love would we hear them differently? Would we bark out a sharp retort, or, perhaps, smile sweetly and say “You know, right in this moment, I really love you.”