That's wonderful. I love your mother's expression there, and the little crinkle in your father's forehead.

When I lived with roommates with a common phone line, my father was famous for the amusement value of the messages he left on our voicemail. My roommates saved for months one that consisted of my father's voice, in tones of inexpressible melancholy, saying, "Oh. Lots of static. But no beep," and then, like your father, getting into a conversation with my mother in the background and apparently forgetting that he was leaving a message.