Calling The Major

At our recent parenting class, we were taught that we should make sure our kids don't think we're perfect. 

I love it when I have mastered something so completely.  If my kids ever thought I was perfect, I don't know when that was.  My trick is to teach them school.  It really brings out the flaws.

Today Braeden and I were multiplying and dividing a polynomial by a monomial.  Now stop being so jealous.


Braeden thought I was trying to kill him. 

I, on the other hand, couldn't figure out why we were getting such a woefully wrong answer.  I said, "We may need to call in the Big Guns."

Braeden said, "Dad?"

I said, "No, Marianne."

Braeden said, "Is she good at this?"  (He was probably thinking, why did I get stuck with this mom?) 

I said, "She majored in math in college."

I kept getting the woefully wrong answer.

I told Braeden to get my cell phone.

He said, "Are you calling the Major?"

On the phone with Marianne, a.k.a. the Major, I realized that I was reading the problem wrong.  Where I was dividing, I was really supposed to be multiplying.  It all was much much easier and Braeden felt less like I was trying to kill him.

Everyone needs a Major in their life to call, who won't laugh at them when they're dumb...at least while you're still on the phone.  Marianne sent me on my way, telling me she loved me and she would call me later because she has a Story to tell me.  I love a good Story.

I love my Major.