Tuesday, August 30, 2005

What we have here

Is a FAILure to ComMUnicate.

Which, I guess, puts me in the role of the Captain of the road gang and the YAC in the role of Cool Hand Luke.

We leave the house every morning at about 6:50. The YAC needs to be at the school by 7:00, and since we don't live that far away, ten minutes is just about right.

So, this morning, as I'm pulling up to the band hall, I hear, "Great. I'm late."

"Wha'd'ya mean, you're late?"

"Dad, I'm late. I'm supposed to be here before 7:00."

Thinking perhaps that I had accidentally crossed into another dimension where the flow of time differs from ours, I checked the chronometer, which the engineers at Honda so thoughtfully built right in to the dash - 6:58.

Having established that the flow of time had not been altered after all, I stated the obvious.

"You are here before 7:00. It's 6:58."

"No, Dad. You don't get it. I'm supposed to be here BEFORE 7:00."

"You're right. I don't "get" it. It is BEFORE 7:00."

"But I'm supposed to be here early enough to help get the pit instruments (kettle drums, marimbas, xylophones, etc.) out on the field before we start stretching, and we start stretching at 7:00."

"So, what you meant was that you needed to be here before 6:55, then?"

"Well, if we left the house at 6:45, like we always do (we don't), I should be here in time."


Once again, her inability to communicate is, naturally, my fault.

"Well figure this out later. Get out of the car."

That loud noise you just heard was the sound of the planets realigning to begin their proper rotation around the YAC.

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