Friday, August 27, 2010

Funeral Directions

This morning I went to a funeral.

To clarify, I went to play the piano for a friend who was singing at her aunt’s funeral.

The church was in a different town - which meant I needed to Mapquest it for driving instructions.

Which was just fine - - - until I exited the freeway.

That's I where I ran into some trouble.

For because two cities were so close together that I couldn’t tell where the dividing line was for one or the other.

And in my inability – okay, my complete incapability - to figure out my directions when I get turned around, East now ran North and North now ran West.

Really. It did.

So after a silent prayer I decided to read again (this time out loud) the directions I had printed out on Mapquest.

And what happened was this conversation with the backseat driver – MY FOUR YEAR OLD SON!!!!!!

Me (mumbling out loud): Okay, now I need to turn right on 800 East

But what I did was turn left because really, left was would have been the RIGHT way to get to the coordinate I needed!

Son (gasping in disbelief): Mom! You turned left! You need to turn right! You turned the WRONG way.

But even so, I drive for a mile or more because what does a four year old know, anyway when it comes to street addresses – in a place we’ve both never been before?? But at about 1.2 miles I quickly notice that the coordinates are getting smaller rather than bigger which definitely meant I had turned the WRONG way.

Me (giggling with embarassment): Whoops, looks like I turned the wrong way.

Son (so stinkin’ matter-of-fact): I told you, Mom! I told you that you needed to turn RIGHT. (And then, under his little four year-old breath I heard him mutter, “Boy, she is such a bad driver!)

Me: What?! You think I’m a bad driver?

Son: Yes, because the Church is over there! (He says, pointing to what is supposed to be East but is really labeled as North)

And sure enough, after one more wrong turn and a back track, there was the Church. RIGHT. WHERE. MY. FOUR. YEAR. OLD. TOLD. ME. IT. WOULD. BE.

Which goes to show that even my little children are given words that confound this (un)wise mother of our family!

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