In the car

On Wednesday evenings, With-a-Why and I pick up Chinese food and bring it up to the apartment where my daughter, Boy in Black, and First Extra live. It’s become our routine; we arrive with food just as the boys get done with Ultimate practice, and we stay to watch that week’s episode of Glee. Blue-eyed Ultimate Player, who lives across the street, will walk over carrying a fork and a bowl of food that he’ll share with us. Yes, the apartment feels very much like an extension of our home, except that it’s cleaner because grad students don’t have much stuff.

This week, on the way to the Chinese take-out place, With-a-Why started talking about the independent study he’s doing with his French teacher. I started telling him the French phrases I found most handy when I was in Paris. La meme chose is my favorite.

“You can use it on any occasion when you don’t know the right words,” I explained to him. “In a restaurant, for instance, you just point to someone who is eating food that looks good to you. La meme chose. The same thing.”

We were so busy talking about Paris that I drove right past the Chinese take-out place. That happens a lot when I'm driving: I go on auto-pilot and forget where I am.

“What are you doing?” With-a-Why asked as I turned the car around. Cars were moving past in both directions so it took me a few minutes to get back on track.

“I missed the turn,” I said. “I was still in Paris.”

“Good thing you weren’t in London,” he said. “We would have been killed.”