Baseball Tournament and Life Lessons
One day, I was driving with my oldest daughter, her younger sister and sister's friend riding in the seats behind us. Boobear and I were talking about boyfriends and marriage. I heard it get quiet behind us and then Jellybean's friend whispered "Shhh, this is an important life lesson."
You never know when those moments will happen until they do.
My dear hubby and I were driving with our two boys to a baseball tournament in Idaho Falls. Dear hubby missed the turn off through Logan and I asked him about it. He assured me that we had always gone this other way.
Clearly remembering the drive through Logan canyon, I tried to persuade him that we had gone the way I mentioned.
"It's fine," he told me.
Wanting him to know that I was right, I continued.
"Then why would I have made the comment about going through Logan if that's not how we went before? "
"You were confused," he replied.
Seriously? I was confused? I couldn't believe that he was so sure that he was right that he wouldn't even consider that maybe he wasn't.
I struggled to remember some detail of our trip that would help him see that he was wrong. I thought about how easy it was for him to blow off the idea, as if it wasn't important.
I remembered a steel manufacturing plant that has been on the side of the mountain. It had stuck out in my mind because it was sitting between green pastures and farm land, out of place for the surroundings.
I tried to remember how far we had traveled before we had seen it on our last trip to Idaho. I thought of how to bring it up so he would see that he was really driving a different route this time.
"Why haven't we passed that steel plant?" I would ask. I thought about his reaction.
I felt smug in my assurance that he would realize that I had been right the whole time.
As we continued down the road, my thoughts again considered my dear hubby's attitude and unwillingness to consider that I was right. I couldn't believe how stubborn he could be sometimes and how he just blew off the whole thing.
I smiled thinking of how I would feel when he realized I was right.
And then we turned at the curve on the road and the steel manufacturing plant came into view.
You never know when those moments will happen until they do.
My dear hubby and I were driving with our two boys to a baseball tournament in Idaho Falls. Dear hubby missed the turn off through Logan and I asked him about it. He assured me that we had always gone this other way.
Clearly remembering the drive through Logan canyon, I tried to persuade him that we had gone the way I mentioned.
"It's fine," he told me.
Wanting him to know that I was right, I continued.
"Then why would I have made the comment about going through Logan if that's not how we went before? "
"You were confused," he replied.
Seriously? I was confused? I couldn't believe that he was so sure that he was right that he wouldn't even consider that maybe he wasn't.
I struggled to remember some detail of our trip that would help him see that he was wrong. I thought about how easy it was for him to blow off the idea, as if it wasn't important.
I remembered a steel manufacturing plant that has been on the side of the mountain. It had stuck out in my mind because it was sitting between green pastures and farm land, out of place for the surroundings.
I tried to remember how far we had traveled before we had seen it on our last trip to Idaho. I thought of how to bring it up so he would see that he was really driving a different route this time.
"Why haven't we passed that steel plant?" I would ask. I thought about his reaction.
I felt smug in my assurance that he would realize that I had been right the whole time.
As we continued down the road, my thoughts again considered my dear hubby's attitude and unwillingness to consider that I was right. I couldn't believe how stubborn he could be sometimes and how he just blew off the whole thing.
I smiled thinking of how I would feel when he realized I was right.
And then we turned at the curve on the road and the steel manufacturing plant came into view.
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