Please Excuse my Dear Aunt Sally

I don't recall an Aunt Sally on either side of my family. I don't think there's a Sally on DH's side either.

But today, I wish I knew dear Aunt Sally as I sat next to Anni while she worked on her math lesson. My headache was building at the same pace as Anni's frustration and tears. She wasn't getting the Order of Operations concept and I desperately needed for Sally to be there because I really never did like math–and quite frankly, I sucked at it.

In college, I changed my major from Accounting to English when I realized that my aptitude for numbers was less than stellar. Forget following my parents' footsteps. Today, I hire a bookkeeper to keep track of my business and the best trait I picked up from my Dad was his great mechanical engineer's penmanship that I use when called upon to design my clients' kitchens and bathrooms.

So in the end, we just plowed through it together. Unfortunately, I was apparently a bit of a hindrance as much as I was some help because I screwed up one of her assessment questions. She made a point to tell me that, I got it wrong. She wasn't about to lay claim to that mistake and I don't blame her.

On the other hand, you'd think that because I have managed to make mistakes on the order,  she would have figured out that I am dear Aunt Sally.