Dear Ethan and Maya,
Your father and I got married today eight years ago. Sooner or later, he is going to share with you one of my most annoying shortcomings that has never been overcome – my inability to deal with systems that have anything to do with directions.
Last week I had to go to downtown by Skytrain. Last time I took public transit, it was years ago when I was working in downtown. Every day I had to go on the same route to and fro, because I was scared to be taken somewhere else if I didn’t. What if I missed a stop and then out of a sudden I landed in Minnesota! In order to make sure I wouldn’t go to Minnesota, your father had to check the Skytrain station map in advance and brief me thoroughly, like which station to transfer, which platform I should go. If I don’t normally walk faster than he does, he would basically need to count how many steps I would need to take from one spot to another, just to be extra safe. Nobody wanted to go to Minnesota.
Last week after I successfully arrived downtown, we texted each other.
Me: I was a little late.
Your father: Really? Why it took so long?
Me: First of all, it was a long ride. Then I missed one station and I had to ride back.
Him: Oh! So it took an hour for the ride? That’s really long!
Me: You know there are two lines to the destination.
Him: Yes. But the one I told you is faster.
Me: I took the other.
Him: WHAT?????? You are really stupid on these things.
Me: Damn you!!!!!
Him: No wonder it took an hour! I told you to take another one!
So, your father, the King of Not Remembering Anything Even When He Was Told A Minute Ago, was trying to complain about my inability to manoeuvre the highly complex and intricate public transit system when just days ago he searched for his missing cell phone for the whole afternoon only to find it on the couch where it was supposed to be. Let’s recount how that episode played out:
Your father looks for his missing cell phone all over the house before he decides to drive back to the store where he visits that morning. Having no luck at the store, he tries to call his cell again, “You found my cell?”
I say, “Your son found it! Not me. Because if I had found it I would have made a point of telling you that YOUR WIFE, THE ONE WHO HAS TO REMIND YOU WHAT’S FOR DINNER WHEN YOU ARE JUST TOLD TEN SECONDS AGO, found your cell.”
Here we’ve just participated in the most stereotypical married-couple fight in history. And you both may start to go back to your rooms only to find your eyes are going to get stuck in the back of your heads.