Homework. How I’ve come to hate that word. I want to be a flower in the field, blooming my little heart out. I do not want to be the grim reaper of the missing homework assignment but that’s been my job today.
If my son has homework, then I have homework. My task is twice as hard. First, I have to mentally prepare the boy for the assignment. I have to make its completion contingent upon something he wants. Then I have to listen to the mournful wailing that is sure to ensure.