Uh ... excuse me sir ... will this be on tomorrow's test?

I was watching television on Friday night with my step-daughter. She's home from university for the first time for a day-and-a-half visit. We'd just returned from a three hour bubble tea and shopping expedition and, neither of us wanting to end the wonderful moment of togetherness, decided to crash out on the couch and find a cheesy movie to pick apart.

We ended up doing a lot of chatting while we channel surfed. As we bounced around from one bad show to the next, we conversed about all kinds of topics serious and funny alike -- from her fears and insecurities about losing her virginity (she hasn't yet) to oral sex, genital herpes, drinking and recreational drugs, to the virtues of spending your days draped completely in sweats (her preference).

At one point, while we scanned the TV menu, we chanced upon Wife Swap, which is a seriously bad reality show (but then again, find me one that isn't) involving two families, often polar opposites, who have beefs with the moms. The premise of the show is to switch matriarchs for a two week period of time. During the first week, the mom has to live by the rules of the adopted family, but during the second, she imposes her rules upon them.

We were busy discussing the hilarity of how anyone would survive in our household when C. suddenly turned to me and asked me which of her personality traits might bother someone. I tossed off a breezy "Nothing darling, you're absolute perfection" but then realised she was quite serious. I gave it some thought briefly, but couldn't come up with anything appropriate at the moment, so I simply told her it was more a question of good fit versus bad fit, and that since we obviously were a good match, it was hard for me to think outside the box.

The next night my step-daughter was getting ready to leave. Her best friend who was also home for the weekend, was picking her up, so she was hurriedly packing her belongings. Once finished, she then started tearing her room apart looking for a specific CD case. She told me that she'd borrowed the CD from her best friend's sister a long time ago, but then had misplaced the CD case. She'd returned the CD in a plain plastic jacket, but apparently the sister, being an obsessive-compulsive according to my step-daughter, kept haranguing her to return the original case.

C. then showed me a pair of grey sweat pants which also belonged to her friend's sister. and which had been in C.'s possession for many months. She said that the sister had phoned and specifically asked that C. bring them back with the CD case. C. went on to say that she didn't understand why this girl was making such a federal case out of an ordinary pair of sweat pants and a CD case, neither of which was a big deal.

The answer to the question that had been posed to me the night before suddenly came in a flash. My step-daughter lacks an ability to see the big picture. In this particular case, she couldn't comprehend the fact that while neither the sweats nor the CD case were important to her, they might be significant to someone else.

I was reminded of the fact that my step-daughter is pretty careless when it comes to belongings, whether it's her own or others, and that she has little insight into how this might bother someone who exercises more care. Once very long ago, she borrowed one of my vintage hair clips (I had a set of two), lost it and then submitted its twin when asked to return the clip. Needless to say, it took me all of about thirty seconds to realise what had transpired once I went to put the clip back in my jewelry box and noticed the other was missing. Although I was somewhat upset about losing something that had been so beautiful, I got over its loss fairly quickly as the clip had no sentimental value (I'd purchased it for myself). What lingered beyond the mourning period, was a bit of mistrust though. The whole incident caused me to look back on each of the times that my step-daughter had borrowed something of mine. I realised then that each time I would lend her one of my belongings, she would say "I'll give it back", which is a given in the world of borrowing, and therefore a redundant and unnecessary promise. It occurred to me that the reassurance was more for herself than it was for me because she knew she was so careless with things. It also occurred to me that in every instance when she'd borrowed something from me, I'd had to go and either lobby for its return or find it myself after unsuccessful and repeated requests.

I remember telling my step-daughter at the time, that when you borrowed someone's belongings, regardless of what the item was, you were really trading on their trust, and that failure to take care of said item and return it in a timely manner and in its original state was really showing a flagrant disregard for that person's feelings, and therefore chipped away at the trust. I found myself reiterating this once again to C. on Saturday night after her comment that she didn't understand why this girl was freaking out over trivial material goods.

I realise that the inability to see the big picture is something C. will grow out of with the passage of time. She's an amazing girl for an eighteen-year-old, with an astonishingly mature insight and honesty. It's only a matter of time before the realisation that there exists an accompanying subtext to seemingly inane or incomprehensible actions, find its way onto her radar.

I couldn't help but think about my parents, or more specifically my mother. She would often set us up so as to teach us a lesson. Everything was seen as essentially a test of character (or lack thereof). It was tough growing up with the realisation that you'd failed miserably. I do sort of get her point though; if I'd loaned C. something as a test to see how she'd behave, it wouldn't do to tell her that it was an experiment, now would it? My mother's view was that the test should be conducted as a blind study and that therefore, the participants (my brother and I) would act completely in character, instead of attempting to perform to expectations. It's sort of the same logic our high school teachers employed when they'd pop quiz us to see if we really did absorb what they taught us, or if we just crammed for tests.

I differ somewhat from my mother though; I don't think it's necessary to set up all these little field experiments and then stand by with clipboard in hand to mark our children. I think that it's the little experiences which are really the pop quizzes in life. I have faith that when C. has to go back and tell her friend's sister that she's lost her CD case (and then have to endure the ensuing freakout and consequences), she may learn something about both herself and her friends

I have faith that hopefully, eventually I'll learn from the pop quizzes that are thrown my way. Better learn quickly though, before my family signs me up as an ideal candidate for Wife Swap.