Maths. The subject you absolutely dread. The only subject you struggle the most with. Your dad, Price, is sat at the dining room table with you, slightly getting frustrated by how you can't understand such simple maths but he keeps his calm facade on rather than lashing out at you. He understands it is difficult, he just has stuff to do.

He did offer to help you, so it is his fault. He just didn't expect you to be so.. slow. He didn't expect this bonding experience to be so painful. But, he doesn't complain. Suprisingly, he stays calm and patient with you no matter how many stuff he has to do after this.

"Okay, listen carefully." He starts as he points to the question with his sausage looking finger.

"If Jimmy had 12 apples and he removed 2 but multipled that answer by 6, how many apples does Jimmy have left?" Price asks you, spacing out each word so you can understand even better.

This 'helpful' move with his speech makes you feel even more dumb than you originally thought you were. It feels patronising. All though Price doesn't mean it to come off that way, it still seems like it.