The Invisible Choice

“Your table is ready Madam, please follow me,” the waitress opened the door of the  café , and led us to our table. I carefully put the baby carrier on one of the chairs, as the last thing I wanted was to wake up my 2-month-old angel, who was finally able to fall asleep in the carrier after hours of clamoring. I must admit, this is one of those “hip-and-latest trend-and-IG-must-go"  café s   that I will never visit on my own if it is not for my wife. Firstly, just to find the café I spent more than 15 minutes' drive even  after  Waze said with that sarcastic voice, “ You-have-reached-your-destination".  No, I am pretty sure I have not because I am still in the middle of nowhere. I am still looking for it, so thanks much for your help. Secondly, as much as I enjoy food, having to wait for an hour for a table, under no shade, around noon, with my 3-year-old son and a newborn baby, already drained much of my energy and reduced much of my appetite. But wh

“Two hours and a half at least,” the staff told me, both hands continuing to wipe the hood of a black SUV. “Boss, there are 2 cars waiting for polish, sorry.” I looked into the garage, indeed. There were a few cars already lining up.   “It’s OK then,” I nodded. “ Thanks  much.”   I moved back into my car, pushed my feet on the gas pedal, and accelerated out of the car wash shop.   Two hours and a half are  not  gonna  work.  My friend’s party is in less than 2 hours, and I cannot wait for more than one hour to get my car washed, considering the traffic that I am going to hit later to reach my friend’s place.   Yes, I am a bit last minute to get my car wash today before the event, and maybe a bit too naive as well. Who would have guessed one of the favorite Sunday Morning activities in my neighborhood is “Car Washing”? Don’t we all tend to get up late on Sunday Morning, trying to sober up from the night before? Maybe it is just me then...   Still pondering my n

“Six..teen..., Seven...teen..., Eight...teen, Nine...teen, TWENTY! !! ”, my three-year-old son counted out loud  with much confidence . “Hurray! Good boy!” I jumped in joy. At that moment, I could not be prouder as a father.   Seeing his dad so excited, and figured out maybe he has done something amazing, he continued to take up the challenge. “Twenty...One, Twenty.. . Two” Only then I remembered 21 to 30 is part of the syllable this quarter. Life is tough for children nowadays, I figured. I am not sure if I was even able to count up to TWENTY when I was three. In fact, I am not sure if I was even able to count at all at that age. I would no doubt be no match to all the kids of today. At the age of three, all I remember was I was busy everyday bullying and intimidating my little sister who is one year younger than me. I would always be sated with the sound of her crying.   “Twenty... Eight, Twenty... Nine, TWENTY-TEN!” My son looking at me, waiting for the standing ovatio