I am beading a bracelet as T does his homework. I have to sit at the table while he works to make sure he actually produces something. Beading dilutes the slow painful erosion of my happy sunday soul. Everytime he has to do homework I want to slit my wrists with a spoon. It has to be less painful than this . AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!! something else to do in hell. Homework with a 10 year old boy. All he has to do is copy.....not create.....but COPY Shakespeare's sonnet 18. " Shall I compare thee to a summers day......." 2 hours and all he has written is 10 lines. He has said " what time is it? I am hungry, I am sleepy, my toe hurts. what time is it?. close the book.open the book. close the book. open the book. sharpen pencil. stare at pencil. chew on pencil. flick pencil. find pencil. look for sharpener. stand up. sit down. stand up. walk around. what you doing? what time is it? sigh. what time is it? What time is it? What time is it?What time is it? space out .look at the ceiling. look at floor. stick finger in nose. inspect snot. roll and flick snot. sigh. stare at ceiling. stare at pencil again...? what time is it?
DONE!!!! Yippee.
great now I can go back to beading. It is sunday. laundry almost done. house tidy. raining. beading then a snooze. D is taking T out to T's boys club. H is reading and eating a Granny smith apple.
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I can relate to that homework stuff. My son is all arms and legs and just for fun likes to upend things then leave them there for me to pick up. Oh and yesterday he said I laughed like Marge Simpson. The brat!
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