“I like numbers and counting them…I can count to 100”
~Soren Larson, local mathematician
I found myself at the deli the other day, ordering some chicken, but not sure how to articulate the amount I needed given it’s measured in grams. This particular day I just ended up pantomiming to the clerk as to the size I needed. Something medium-ish sized? Yup, looks good…
I grabbed my chicken and as I sheepishly scurried away, a women walked up and confidently said, “I’ll take 250 grams of the potato salad.”
What? The first image that came to mind was a balance scale. I imagined the deli clerk slowly adding potato salad to a bowl, gram by gram. What does 250 grams even look like?
Like I’ve said before, the metric system absolutely makes sense, but for a girl raised on the imperial system, it’s hard to conceptualize these units in real time.
I know what a mile feels like, but one kilometer? Liters of gasoline? Right now, I just set the gas to stop pumping at the “full” setting and I go from there. Someone said gas here is pricey, but honestly, because it’s in liters, I have no idea. Plus, I lived in California where everything was expensive. I have grown numb to inflated and overly taxed items.
Much to Parker’s annoyance, I have my weather app set to Fahrenheit. I really should change it over because I need the practice and it can cause major confusion during a conversation. Usually, I correct myself and then quickly do the conversion to Celsius before they think I’m a weirdo. If all else fails, I just shrug and say, “I’m from the States.”
On the other hand, Soren seems to have assimilated just fine. Although we have never practiced with him, he routinely talks in metric units. I get questions like, “mom, how many meters long is this path?” I just say “10,” because it’s a nice round number. If I say “100,” it indicates it’s really long (obviously).
The other nuance is the public restroom is called a “washroom.” Incidentally, this is the one thing I have become good at saying, probably because I’m always escorting a child to the washroom. Even so, my kids are impressed with my wordage. I got the, “Wow mom, you’re so Canadian!” from Sophie the other day.
I mean, I try…
But know this, I will never say “pop” (i.e., soda) again. Never.