Right directions

Last night we decided we'd better get to sleep earlier because the babies have been waking up earlier than we'd like. So we're trying to get to sleep, but we can't quit talking, which is a really bad habit of ours that has led to many a groggy morning. We talked about how the girls did at the park; how the twins' only source of entertainment was the baby swing, and climbing up the bottom of a slide two feet before slipping back to the bottom- with the occasional voiced objection of the one being rammed into. Then he asks which park we went to, and I try to describe it's location.

"You go to where Sunbury road ends, turn left on Maryland-"

"Oh- You mean 5th. Past the Wendy's."

"No, there's no Wendy's there."

Five minutes later we realize we have different opinions of "where Sunbury road ends," and despite the fact that I just drove it twice the last two days, Zach is positive it comes to a "T" about five blocks before it really does. I'm laughing because he almost has me convinced that the road I took doesn't really exist, and realizing that, given my track record with remembering directions, it's no wonder he doesn't believe me. So before he has me completely convinced that I mysteriously transported to the park via road that isn't there, I demand that we get out of bed, go downstairs and Google it.

Five minutes even later we're back in bed. The tension of masculinity affronted is thick in the air.

"Sorry, hon."

"About what?"

"That I was right."

Sigh. "That's okaaaaay. I'm sorry I was...wrong so belligerent."

You know this post wouldn't be here if Sunbury ended on 5th.