Homework With Four

On Mondays, it is nearly impossible to get Four to do his homework directly after school, because I spend two hours driving children to and from activities. Yesterday, Four got home at 2:50. At 3:20 I took Two and his friend to Chuck's house for weight training. Their six-packs needed maintenance. I got home at 3:50, yelled at Three to finish his math and get ready for soccer, and gave Four a snack. We attempted one sheet of grammar homework.

At 4:20 Four, Cobie, and I drove to the elementary school to get Five from his afterschool program. We arrived back home at about 4:45, and I set Five up at the table to start his homework. Four and I finished the one grammar assignment. At 5:05, Three and I left for soccer practice. After dropping him at the school, I went to pick up Two at Chuck's. We made a brief detour to Chuck's mother's house, to view the remains of Chuck's brother's car. He'd been in a fairly severe accident. Everyone in the car was unharmed, which seemed miraculous given the damage. I seized the teaching moment.

"Chuck, it's so kind of your brother to teach us these lessons. What have we learned here today, boys?"
"Uhhhh...don't drive like an idiot?"
"Yes. And, WEAR YOUR SEATBELT, WEAR YOUR SEATBELT, WEAR YOUR SEATBELT!"
I'm pretty sure that's the only reason they're all alive.

After the car viewing, Two and I briefly stopped at home, so he could change for Chorale. No one likes a sweaty teenage boy. I especially don't like the ones that douse themselves in body spray to  cover the ammonia smell. Thankfully, Two changed his entire outfit, thus reducing the odor. I dropped him at the high school, and got back home at 6:10. Dinnertime!

So, when Four and I actually sat down to do homework, here is what it sounded like:

"Wait, Mom, what's that thing that police officers do when they pull you over?"
"A pat-down."
"Can I try it on you?"
"When you're done with this sheet."
"Okay. Hey, can I show you this epic Bakugan battle?"
"Maybe, when we're done with homework."
"Eww! Why is my book wet?"
"It's from my iced tea."
"How can tea get all the way over here?"
"It didn't. My glass just got wet, and I forgot to wipe it. It's just water."
"Oh, okay. Hey, I invented a new way to knock you out for surgery.  First you put a gas mask on the person, and then you hit them in the head with a frying pan."
"Stop talking and finish this sheet."
"Who invented the pat-down?"
"The police."
"Why?"
"To make sure the person wasn't concealing a weapon."
"Can I pat you down now?"
"Not yet."
"Why do you call 411?"
"To get information, like a phone number."
(Singing) "Somebody call 911, shorty's burning fire on the dance floor, ohohohoh. Is is possible to create fire from dance?"
"I don't think so. Keep working."
"I want to sing you a song we learned in school."
"When we're done."
"Can I kiss you?"
"Yes."
"How did you feel when you lost your dad?"
"I was sad."
"Did you go through the five stages of grief? I only remember two: anger and acceptance. What are the others?"
"I can't remember. I'm sure there's denial..."
He explains a scene from a show about the stages of grief.
"We played a game today. Students against teachers. We had to guess the song. It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring."
"Who won?"
"We did, because Kyle remembered 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'."
"Good for you."
"Do you think I have fleas in my hair? Somebody call 911..."

Yes. Please. Somebody call 911. My head has exploded.

Feel free to reference this conversation if you have concerns that you, or a loved one, may have Attenion-Deficit Disorder. And yes, I did let him pat me down. When we were done with homework. TSA, here he comes!