My mom regales me with a specific story that always brings a smile to my face, along with a sense of wonder that my sisters and I, as small children, could grasp things so easily.
When we were little, we would have a hard time paying attention to our mother. So when those times would come, my mother would put her hands at the side of our face, turn our face to hers, and say "Look at me. Look at me." before saying whatever needed to be said. Soon thereafter, if our mother was doing a zillion things and we needed to talk to her, we'd put our hands on the side of her face, make her look at us, and we would say, "Look me! Look me!"