MP LOVES maps. LOVES. She has a collection from different towns; different states even. She loves to see exactly where we’re going. This cartographic gene clearly comes from her father, who shared the same fascination. I, on the other hand, couldn’t find my hand in front of my face on a clear day.
So, I have to admit, I’m impressed.
Lately, however, I can’t shake the feeling I’m in the car with my dad, who’s famous for his … er … very specific directions. (Which, in case you missed it, is my attempt at subtlety. It just sounds nicer than [holy-hell-zip-it-up-I-know-how-to-drive] Backseat Driver.)
To illustrate my point, here was the view from the driver’s seat today, taken with my camera phone.
Today’s conversation went a little like this:
MP: Now, where is the post office? (Very serious.)
Me: Just up ahead. Better hurry and finish your snack.
MP: I see two taffit lights on da map. (Pointing to the window) There’s one! There’s one!
MP: Mommy, you need to turn RIGHT. The map says to go RIGHT.
Me: This is a shortcut.
MP: What’s a shortcut?
Me: It’s the fastest way to get somewhere. It’s quicker.
MP: Hmmm … I don’t see that on da map …
Me: We’re almost there.
MP: Where’s da udder traffit light?
Me: I don’t think there is another traffic light.
MP: It’s on the map.
Me: See, the post office is right there.
MP: Why is it called a ‘post’ office?
Me: Uh … Because that’s where people go to post their mail. ‘Post’ means ‘mail.’
Me: Means ‘send.’
MP: Can I bring my map into the post office?