You’re invited to a party. The invitation says 6:30pm. At exactly 6:26pm, you pull into the driveway or you dial the hosts to let them know that you’ll be a bit late. No more than 10 or 15 minutes.
If that sounds about right than you don’t live in Mexico.
Around here, people are late. Really late. The saying goes that they’re even late for their own funeral. It’s a saying, not a joke.
Like the time that our friends came trick or treating with their kids on November 2. Yes, all dressed up in costume complete with trick or treating bags. They got tamales. That’s what we had. Needless to say, they didn’t come back the next year. On any day.
And then there was the story of the phantom dentist…
On a Monday, Artemis’ teacher, who turns out to be called Sandra (nothing like finding out your kids teachers name after three months), told me that the dentist would be coming on Tuesday and did I give my approval for Artemis to have a fluoride treatment?
First of all, Ed was out of the country. Second of all, I have no idea if a four year old should have a fluoride treatment and thirdly, there’s always a risk of things getting lost in translation. But, time was of the essence because the dentist was coming the next day. So, I provided my approval.
Immediately thereafter, I anxiously contacted a friend in Canada to see if Artemis should in fact have the treatment in question. I went online and showed Artemis pictures of people getting their teeth cleaned and as luck would have it, my friend even sent some pictures of her daughter getting her teeth cleaned. Nothing like giving me 12 short hours to prepare for such a monumental event.
And that was that.
Only that wasn’t that because the dentist didn’t show up. Not that Tuesday or the next Tuesday or even the next Tuesday. We waited for six weeks and then eventually had to leave the country.
I can’t tell you that I was surprised. At all. Even a little bit.
After ten years, I just laugh and shake my head.