I love my mom, as every dutiful child does. But there are moments where I am confounded by her.
My brother still lives at home with my parental units. He’s also a grown man, who is comfortable with this snazzy new-fangled thing called the Internet. He’s also studying to become an accountant and holds down a respectable position at a Canadian Chartered Bank. He’s a capable fellow, and he comes home every night.
I left home over 10 years ago and have not returned since, except for little get togethers like Christmas Eve and Easter Lunch — and to do the parent units’ taxes, with them using the age old argument of “we gave you life, do our taxes”. Now remember, I have already mentioned that my brother is studying to become an accountant and has gone a fair bit through his studies already. And he has a computer at home, which he plays around on and shock beyond shock actually surfs the internet on.
About once every two weeks my mom calls me at work to ask me to check the bus schedule for the Toronto-Penetang route. I dutifully go onto the internet to search it out for her. About once every 3 months she takes it into her head that she must explore yet another Catholic Church so I have to go onto the Archdioces of Toronto’s website to find the particular church she’s interested in (the site has times for masses, confessions, and maps on how to get there). My confusion stems from the fact that my brother is at home and fully capable of answering these questions for her. He’s not a lazy creature, he could do this for her. But she never asks him.
Could this inability to ask for help from my brother be because I am the eldest of her sprogs, and therefore have accumulated more wisdom and knowledge than him?