I’ve never been one for geometry. In fact, I picked up very few math skills during my educational career. I do know words, though, and I know that geometry is concerned with the shape, size, and positions of figures and their positions in space. That tells me all I need to know about how geometry affects my life.
My house if full of circles and triangles—or, more exactly, one circle and a bunch of triangles. I’m the circle. The boys in my household are the triangles. This means my position in this family relative to the little triangles is not as important as the big triangle. I don’t know what that’s called in geometry, but I call it unfair.
It makes total sense, because “circle” contains the Indo-European root ker- or sker- meaning to turn or bend, something all moms have to do for their family, right? (Some moms have to bend over backward to make their family happy. I’m not that kind of circle. I bend one way, whether the triangles like it or not.) That root –ker also gives rise to curve, curvature, crown, coronate, and the sun’s corona, which also makes sense because—well, let’s drop the modesty—if my household was a galaxy, I’d be the center of it.
Also, if you dissect a circle, you sort of get a lot of little triangles—like a pie. Which also makes sense. Between work, school, homework, cub scouts, and housework, it seems like everyone gets a piece of me.
None of those reasons, however, is why I’m a circle—not unless they’re teaching geometry in preschool. No, it’s something a little simpler than that. I’m a circle because that’s how my 3-year-old son Sebastian deciphers the whole bathroom experience. Sebastian recently got over his fear of public bathrooms, but it was on one condition: That he be allowed to go in the triangle.
As a mom, that makes perfect sense. I take him to the bathroom all the time. We go in the “circle,” while his dad and brothers go in the “triangle.” He’s a big boy, so he definitely doesn’t want to go in the circle with his mom, but since I’ve been Director of Preschool Potty Visits for the last 10 years, it’s my job to take him. I take him through the door with a big blue circle on it. The boys go through the door with a triangle on it, and they pee in a big rectangle.
So recently when we were at a restaurant and Sebastian asked to use the restroom, I didn’t feel like fighting with him about why I couldn’t take him in the triangle, so I urged my husband Ron to take him. When they came back, Sebastian cheered “Mom, I went pee in the triangle!” for all to hear. I had to explain to Ron what that meant, because it didn’t immediately make sense to him. That’s because circles and triangles think differently.
It’s not just the circles and triangles in my house, either. This was apparent when we went to Home Depot to buy and install a new “circle” for our bathroom. Ron was wondering aloud about whether he needed one or two wax rings to install the toilet. He grabbed an employee in the electrical department.
“That’s so random,” I said dismissively. “He’s not going to know the answer to that, Ron.”
Ron asked: “Do they still recommend two wax rings when installing a toilet?”
Without hesitation, the man answered, “Yes, they do, especially if the flanges are low.”
Just two triangles talking shop, I guess.
“How the heck do you guys know that?”
Ron took pity on my naïve, circle brain and didn’t make fun of me. Instead, he explained that boys learn that stuff from their dads.
“It’s just stuff you learn or you do with your dad,” he said.
Sorry. I missed the toilet flange/wax ring talk with my mom. So what, do men sit down with their son with a chart and a wax ring sample and explain the world of toilets? I can imagine that conversation: “Son, it’s time to have the talk. Not that talk, the other one. Let me start out by showing you this wax ring. This will do you right, but sometimes you need to use two wax rings to get a good seal and prevent leakage. You may be able get away with one, but it depends on your flange.”
Or maybe it’s just sort of what is called tribal knowledge, you know, information not written down but passed down from guy to guy. What does goes on inside the triangle, and why does Sebastian want so bad to be a part of it? Whatever it is, game shows watch out: This circle takes the square. I’m willing to compete with the triangles on any random toilet questions that might come up.
Arts Editor Shelly Cone will tackle hexagons next. Contact her at scone@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Sep 8-15, 2011.
