I swear that one of these days Grady is going to push me over the edge, and it ain't going to be pretty. I think that boy was hard wired to push all my buttons.
Homework, has been, is and probably always will be a bone of contention. I am not against homework, well actually, yes I am if it means that I have to be involved in any way shape, or form. It is right up there with "Root Canal" under my list of things to avoid at all costs.
Most of the hassles come not from the homework itself, but from the preparation - ie: the first hurdle to overcome is finding a place to sit, they have a choice of 7 chairs at 2 tables in 2 different rooms, plus a desk in each bedroom, but of course both Sid and Grady want to sit in the same spot. To quote Aristotle "No two objects can occupy the same place at the same time". Far be it from me to argue with the great Greek philosopher, but he obviously never had to deal with a 7 and a 10 year old. They could certainly show him a thing or two.
Once we have established seating arrangements - in order for me to aid both - they have to at least be within shouting distance, we arrive at the great pencil debate. Unchecked this dispute could last for hours, it is the mother of all procrastinations, and I have heard every excuse possible for not wanting to use a particular writing instrument; too long, too short, too sharp, not sharp enough, too dark, too light, don't like the smell and I could go on ad infinitum. Wow, Latin & Greek, I'm feeling quite learned today, some of the homework must have rubbed off on me. We solve the pencil issue, then the eraser is a problem, followed by no ruler, no paper and so on and so forth. If that boy (he is much more flighty than Sidney) spent only half the time doing his homework that he does avoiding it, life would be so much simpler.
Every now and then I have a good idea that borders on genius, and in that vein I decided to create a "Homework Box" and stocked it full of all the supplies they could possibly need (in duplicate so no fighting) so there would be no reason to use lack of implements as an excuse not to start the dreaded task. This has actually worked well for the last couple of weeks. However, I do still have to sit there with a rolled up newspaper so that I can whack Grady on the head every time he strays off topic. I could really benefit from the invisible fencing they use for dogs, I think it would work well on my son, either that or a bark collar. Now that is sheer genius, absolutely brilliant. I could give him a quick jolt each time he gets distracted, he'd be thrashing all over the place. I'm only joking, no need to call Children's Aid on me yet, plenty of time to do that after you've finished reading the blog.
Anyway, back to the reason I'm going to need an alibi, I seem to be waffling almost as much as Grady, maybe he does come by it honestly. Sid comes home from school, does what she needs to do and then sits down to start her homework. There is a reason she is my favourite - and yes I know I'm not supposed to have favourites but you should really meet the other two. Grady, after I have told him umpteen times to start his homework, decides it would be far more fun to pick a fight with Sid instead. Insults are hurled back & forth and I am forced to wade in and sort it out. Apparently, all Sid had done was hold one of the erasers in her hand and for whatever reason - who knows what synapses were shorting out in his brain and that's before my proposed electric shock treatment - Grady was incensed by this.
Our conversation went something like this:
Me: (The way I seem to start most conversations in this house) "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"
Grady: "Sid has the eraser in her hand"
Me: "So what, there is another one in the box"
Grady: "I don't want that one"
Me: "Why not ? They're identical"
Grady: "No, it still has it's wrapper on"
Me: (Through gritted teeth) "Not a problem". I unwrap the eraser, and hand it to Grady.
Grady says - Wait for it - "I don't need it"
Are you kidding me ? All that and he doesn't even need the freaking eraser. Is he deliberately trying to make me apoplectic, because if so he's done a bloody good job.
Believe it or not, an hour later they are now happily playing "school" together. What kind of twisted children do that ?
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