The Big 2-5, Or, I Hope My Children Inherit Their Father's Sense of Direction

So now I'm a quarter of a century old. T came home for lunch and brought me cashew chicken from my favorite Thai place, a cute card, a shiny rainbow-colored helium balloon which D.L.F. has claimed as his own, and a new watch.

BUT, before all that happened, I thought I would try taking the kids to a park that I had seen recently on one of my morning walks. We entered at one side of the park, had a good time playing on the toys, and then exited the other side of the park. I walked along at a good clip for a while until I saw a street sign and realized I was going in the wrong direction and was now over twenty blocks from home. By this time, I was completely turned around and didn't have any idea which way to go. I knew if I got to a major intersection, I could figure out where I was, but I didn't want to walk any farther in the wrong direction. So I did the only logical thing--picked up my cell phone and called T, hoping he could bail me out with Google Maps.

Me: Hi...ummm...are you in front of a computer?

T: No, why?

Me: Well...this is going to sound sort of silly, but I took the kids to a new park, and now I'm at (such-and-such street) and don't know which way to go.

T: Where's the sun?

Me: Um...I don't know. I guess it's kind of...up...and behind me.

T: Okay. Walk away from the sun and then take a right.

How does the man do it? His directions got me home without a hitch. However, now I know why I have never walked that direction with the double stroller (or any stroller, for that matter). 14 (bumpity, rumble, rumble, bump, ka-THUNK) of the 20+ blocks on the way home had no real sidewalks...just trampled down gravel and grass alongside the busy street. The vibrations actually put both kids to sleep, although I kept squeezing D.L.F.'s knee and telling him to wake up so he would still take his afternoon nap.