I forget. I always forget. Ray and Willa haven’t grown up with my norms. They aren’t walking through parks, malls, restaurants, or sitting in traffic at red lights. We’ve been back in PNG from our last furlough for over a year and in that time they haven’t seen a drinking fountain, a public restroom, consistently implemented traffic laws, or many other things I find humdrum. But I forget.

The layover in Port Moresby to get from Madang to Australia can be tight. If it’s not tight, it’s just that sweet spot of walking calmly from one plane to the next with little to no wait time in between. That’s what we had on our way to Cairns three weeks ago. Excitement for what was ahead and relief that the first flight went on time without any hiccups. We walked from Domestic to International to get checked in and then slowly made our way upstairs to Immigration.

An elevator!!! The girls were ecstatic. Only it wasn’t an elevator. It was an escalator. Easy misspeak, especially when neither of those things exists in your town and you never have to differentiate. They’ve been on escalators many times before (albeit long ago), so Brian and I thoughtlessly forged ahead without encouragement or instruction. I mean, we’ve done all that and they became experts. But they forgot. Brian stepped on first with Gemma, then they stepped on together with me just behind. Suddenly I found myself holding up two squealing girls by the top straps of their backpacks as they flailed with legs in the air. We made it to the top. Somehow we made it to the top. Brian was laughing too hard to explain, but I did figure out they basically pulled a Buddy the Elf and kept one leg stable while the other rode the elevator. It all happened much faster than it does in the movies and they ended up off balance pulling each other down. We spent the next three weeks practicing on every escalator we could, though Ray occasionally struggled to find courage to face them.

Later that same day we went to the Food Court at the mall for lunch at McDonald’s. After Ray mostly finished her food (turns out she’s not a Mickey D’s fan) she asked if she could throw it away. Sure!!! Do that. I marveled mutely as she cautiously removed every scrap of food left on her hamburger paper and put them on the table. Then she balled up the paper to cart away. Another thing I missed explaining. So I had her unwrap the paper, deposit her food trash in the middle of it, and then ball it up to throw away. With half an eye on her and almost two eyes on Gemma, she walked to the big trash bin nearby. She stared at it. Poked its side. No lights of recognition coming on for her. She quickly moved on to the janitor’s cart. Noooo!! Not that! Don’t put it there! Right there! That thing you were just staring at! She looked at me confused, then tried to throw it away in every possible location BUT the giant trash can right in front of her. I was frantically pointing trying to make sure she didn’t toss it in the landscaping, but I couldn’t leave Gemma to help her. A kind mom nearby stood to throw her trash away and guided Ray to the trash can, showing her how to use it. Really??? But I forget. We don’t have anything that looks quite like that here. It’s obvious to me because I grew up around malls, theaters, parks, churches, that all have trash cans like that. It was incomprehensible to her eye.

Later in that week we ran into bathroom hand dryers. After their “first” experience (we got better at expecting them to behave as if they’d never seen this stuff before) they wanted to go into bathrooms just to use those fabulous hand dryers. They’re so loud. And blowy. And woooooonderful.

Probably one of the most humdrum bits of First World life are commercials. Who likes them? Who cares? Ray and Willa. They went into utter panic mode when they found out they couldn’t pause the commercial to go to the bathroom. We don’t have a TV here, so any media they see is controlled by us. No commercials, pause when we want to, finish when we want to. Watching live television was a thrill, but a shock. If I go to the bathroom now, how will I know what happens to the hungry people in the McDonald’s commercial? Will they get their food?? I’ll never know!!! Sigh.

Because these are all situations I’ve been trained so well by my culture to understand I don’t even think about them. I simply forget. Those same things are totally throwing my kids. We laughed a lot. They laughed too. And by the end of our time Willa was a master of the escalator while Ray became adept at muting the commercials during our special family time watching our special Australian cooking show. She learned and learned quickly. Nobody needs to pause a commercial.

But I’ll admit, I won’t forget this trip any time soon. Seeing them learn all over again about the world outside of Madang was pretty enjoyable. We rested, we ate, we played, and now we’re back home again where the problem of trash cans and escalators will fade away, but the warm memories won’t.