Fear the Crab

I think there is a difference between sons and daughters, in terms of following orders from parents.

If the mother says, “Go with your father to his doctor appointment,” the son will dutifully accompany the dad to the office. There, the son will sit in the waiting room and watch cooking shows, read magazines, or listen in on one-sided phone conversations from the receptionist, whilst the father goes in to see the doctor. Once the session is finished, both father and son pay for parking and leave, figuring out what to get for lunch.

However, it seems that when the mother asks that the son go with the dad, what she is really saying is, “Go with your father, sit in the doctor’s office and listen to what the doctor has to say.” In other words, the son is supposed to act as reconnaissance, after which he is to relay all relevant information so that the mother can be assured the father isn’t lying.

When the son returns home, he will be asked, “Did you go with your father?” and the son can truthfully answer, “Yes.” However, the next question then becomes, “What did the doctor say?” To which the son would reply, “I don’t know, ask Dad.”

Daughters apparently have this inherent ability to append unspoken addenda to verbal requests, and by some indications it is not limited to bloodline. Both Maile and The Kimberly seemed to know that physically sitting with my dad when he got his imaging results was what I was really supposed to do.

Yet the failure of my inability to properly decode the secret order is chalked up to my not listening. Excuse me, but from what I understand, the idea of successful secret codes is that the decryption keys are pre-arranged. It does no good if the recipient of said secret codes cannot decipher and reveal the hidden messages, much less so if he is not made aware that codes are being issued in the first place.

The trouble is, therefore, not in the fact that I wasn’t listening (I was, technically, listening quite perfectly), but that my orders were not properly worded to give the correct meaning and intention. Maile says that it should be common sense that I “know” what my mom was intending.

I contend that common sense in these circumstances is like being asked to buy milk from the market, and going after the brand that’s on sale, or the carton that has a longer expiration date. I should not be chastised for buying 2% over Skim or soy over cow, when such important decision-making factors were not disclosed properly before said excursion.