Our internet connection at the office is down, thanks to nimbda. It's frustrating since I can't do anything work-related (or other than work-related). Even our email is slow in coming and going.
Last weekend, in the post that got eaten, I was sharing my thoughts about Rob's genetic coding. It seems he's missing a direction-finding gene.
We were coming back from Southcenter and for some reason I got huffy with him (imagine!) and sulked that if he were so inclined, he could jolly well find his own way home. He drives down the road a bit and at the next major intersection he sees, declares that he knows he's got to turn left here. I shriek and point to the correct direction: right.
"I don't even know which direction I'm going," he grumbled.
Glancing at the setting sun behind us, I comment, "If the sun is setting at your back, which direction is to your right?"
He claimed he didn't recognize the road, although we've been on it several times before. And actually, he did rather well navigating most of the way home after that, even turning down an obscure shortcut through the Weyerhaeuser headquarters (which left me foaming at the mouth since they've clearcut another section of the property. Like they need any more office space.).
Rob: I'm doing well.
Tracy: You sure are, honey!
Rob: Um. But I'm not sure I remember where this comes out.
Tracy: Of course you do.
Rob: (who has been down this road MANY times, with and without me) No I don't.
Tracy: Yes, you do.
Rob: Oh! I know where we are! This is the road that goes by IHOP! ::beams::
Tracy: No it's not.
Rob: Yes it is.
Tracy: (starts giggling) NO! It's NOT!
I was laughing because every single time we're on that road, he says the same thing and every single time, I have to tell him he's thinking of the wrong road. Every. Single. Time.
It's so cute to watch him though as he cruises along, turning left where we need to go right but with such confidence and self-assurance.
Tracy: I know what it is, you're missing a gene.
Rob: The roads all look alike, no one can figure them out.
Of course they do, honey. Of course they do.
Last weekend, in the post that got eaten, I was sharing my thoughts about Rob's genetic coding. It seems he's missing a direction-finding gene.
We were coming back from Southcenter and for some reason I got huffy with him (imagine!) and sulked that if he were so inclined, he could jolly well find his own way home. He drives down the road a bit and at the next major intersection he sees, declares that he knows he's got to turn left here. I shriek and point to the correct direction: right.
"I don't even know which direction I'm going," he grumbled.
Glancing at the setting sun behind us, I comment, "If the sun is setting at your back, which direction is to your right?"
He claimed he didn't recognize the road, although we've been on it several times before. And actually, he did rather well navigating most of the way home after that, even turning down an obscure shortcut through the Weyerhaeuser headquarters (which left me foaming at the mouth since they've clearcut another section of the property. Like they need any more office space.).
Rob: I'm doing well.
Tracy: You sure are, honey!
Rob: Um. But I'm not sure I remember where this comes out.
Tracy: Of course you do.
Rob: (who has been down this road MANY times, with and without me) No I don't.
Tracy: Yes, you do.
Rob: Oh! I know where we are! This is the road that goes by IHOP! ::beams::
Tracy: No it's not.
Rob: Yes it is.
Tracy: (starts giggling) NO! It's NOT!
I was laughing because every single time we're on that road, he says the same thing and every single time, I have to tell him he's thinking of the wrong road. Every. Single. Time.
It's so cute to watch him though as he cruises along, turning left where we need to go right but with such confidence and self-assurance.
Tracy: I know what it is, you're missing a gene.
Rob: The roads all look alike, no one can figure them out.
Of course they do, honey. Of course they do.
posted by Owl Chick at 9/20/2001 10:00:00 PM
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