I was walking to the new primary school in Mexico where my daughters were attending with a wet bath towel I was meant to drop off to be washed.
Arriving at the international school, I was trying to find a Spanish-speaking staff member to avoid any misunderstanding about the towel washing policy.
Overhearing a woman who looked like a teacher speaking Spanish to another woman, I approached and politely interrupted asking where the towel drop-off was.
The woman asked me to follow her and she led me to a room with a number of colored plastic baskets on the floor that were filled with the anti-lice coat bags the students used for keeping their jackets separate from their classmates to prevent the spread of headlice.
The woman asked me what grade my daughter was in, but I wasn’t sure. Not only was I unsure about the grade, but I couldn’t remember which of my daughters was a student at that particular school.
Somewhat frustrated, the woman began searching through every bag trying to find the only one containing a wet towel.
Quite embarrassed by the whole ordeal, I decided to call home and ask which of the girls attended that school to see which class she was in to facilitate the search for the missing towel.
My eldest daughter answered the phone and I immediately noticed she was upset and holding back tears.
I asked her what was wrong and she started crying while trying to explain that a bird had flown into the kitchen.
I angrily told her I didn’t care about the bird and that I needed to know which of her sisters attended the international school in Mexico.
Then I woke up.
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