Navigation Error, or Whiz Kid Screws Up

Those of you who know me well, know that I get lost frequently. Those of you who know me well may also know that my son is scary-smart. Not just gifted, but smart in a weird way that isn't at all normal. The people that are around him often are used to this and have all but quit noticing.

A few months ago my son informed me that I was going the wrong way. He said, "Mom, you're going south and we need to be going north. You need to turn around."  I asked how he knew I was going the wrong way and he proceeded to explain that the sun was coming in his window and it would be coming in his sister's window if I were going the right way. I turned around and we found home thanks to his intervention.

Ever since that day, I've come to rely on him to navigate for me.  When going somewhere for the first time I read him the directions and expect him to remember them and keep us going the right way. It worked until yesterday. 

We set out for a homeschool pool party at a rural residence that we had never visited before. The directions were long and involved farm roads so I printed the directions out and gave them to my son to hold onto. Once I got onto Highway YY, I told him it was time to read mom the directions.

"Turn east onto Highway YY. Go east eighty-two miles," he began.

"Eighty-two miles? No way! Are you sure there isn't a decimal point there? It looks like a period."

He tells me that, yes, there is a decimal point there so I have him finish reading the directions as I drive. At some point it seemed like we had gone too far without passing the landmarks we were supposed to look for. Surely we had gone more than 8.2 miles. I pull over and ask him to hand me the directions.

We were supposed to have gone 2.8 miles, not 8.2 miles. I had passed the landmarks because I wasn't looking for them yet and he was still reading them to me. Oops. I made a mental note to have a lesson on decimals next week and make an appointment to have him tested for dyslexia. Then I turned around.

We finally arrived at the pool party, late. When I told the other moms that it was my four-year-old's fault and why it was his fault, they all looked at me like I was nuts. I don't know why. I guess they aren't used to him yet.