Having an extremely observant 3-year-old is not necessarily always a good thing.
I had promised Connor an adventure yesterday, so we hopped in the car and headed to a park nearby where, if you’re lucky, you can see porcupines. Big ones. The problem was I wasn’t sure exactly how to get there.
Connor noticed, and the conversation went something like this:
“Mommy, why are we turning around?”
“Because I turned the wrong way. The park is in the other direction.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then comes out with this:
“Mommy, we shouldn’t drive without Daddy because he knows the way.”
Oh ye of little faith.
We drive a little longer.
“Hmm,” I muse aloud.
“What?” he asks.
I’m starting to regret telling him he should admire the view instead of having a book on my iPhone.
“Mommy’s just not that good at finding the way in new places.”
“Do you have a map?”
“Yes, I have one on my phone.”
“Well let’s use it.”
As if it were the most logical suggestion in the world. Which it is.
Stubbornly, I drive a few more blocks.
“C’mon, let’s use the map,” he says again.
Fine.
“I’ll keep an eye on Finley,” Connor says, as though we’re going to get stranded and the dog in the back is going to need comforting.
Meanwhile I get the map to tell us how to get there—I was close, ha ha, as long as you ignore the fact that I’m going in circles—and we continue on, much to Connor’s relief (and the dog’s too, I’m sure).
I really, really hope he gets his dad’s sense of direction.
PS We did get there.
[Commence smirking.]
