All the Drama

Ben is one of those people who functions best when we follow a routine. So every day after school, he's allowed to play outside, or play video games, or just do whatever he wants (within reason, obviously) for two hours. When that two hours is up, it's time for homework. Every day, "homework" consists of practicing his spelling words, any worksheets his teacher may have sent home, and 30 minutes of reading. Every day. No, really, every single day. On Monday? Spelling, worksheets if there are any, 30 minutes of reading. Tuesday? Spelling, worksheets if there are any, 30 minutes of reading. Wednesday? Spelling, worksheets if there are any, 30 minutes of reading. Thursday... oh wait, what? You're telling me you've noticed a pattern? Well, you're doing better than Ben, then.

No matter how much he craves routine, he just cannot accept the notion that homework must become part of that routine. He refuses to acknowledge that homework is non-negotiable. Despite the fact that, since KINDERGARTEN, whining hasn't gotten him out of homework, he still hangs on to the notion that, maybe today will be the day Mom has had enough of the whining and she'll just let me skip the homework. I guess I could admire his optimism. ...if I wasn't so absolutely, completely sick and TIRED of having the SAME argument every. single. day.

And it's not like they're reasoned arguments, either. Oh no! His main point is always, without fail, "No one likes me! Everyone in the whole world hates me and that's why they give me homework. You hate me and you want me to be miserable, so you make me do my homework. The whole world hates me... (repeat over and over and over for at least half an hour.)" It's exhaustimg. I've come to dread the moment the clock says 5:00 and I have to tell Ben, "Time for homework!" I actually have to steel myself up, give myself a pep talk, and remind myself why I can't just let it go for the day.

So I'm grateful for the times when I get to laugh through the ordeal instead. Those days are few and far between. Aside from the over-done theatrics, there's really not much to laugh about when listening to what is basically the extended version of "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms." (Third verse: You hate me, that's why I have to do homework. I'd rather die than write my spelling words." I know, I know, the meter is off. Don't look at me, I didn't compose the lyrics!) But yesterday? Oh, yesterday I laughed so hard I almost wet my pants. Because in the middle of over-dramatically throwing himself onto the recliner, he launched into this soliloquy-- "Everybody hates me! Everyone treats me like I'm this piece of... piece of wood! That no one likes!" I lost it. Lost. It. I laughed until I cried and then laughed some more. And for the rest of the evening, I referred to him as "my little piece of wood that I love."

But now I have this to ponder: Either my son is metaphor challenged, or he stopped himself before positing that he was a piece of something-his-mother-should-not-hear-him-say. I'm hoping for the former.

(*Side note: Today was supposed to be another new weekly feature reveal that was supposed to have been drafted yesterday. But, in usual Erika fashion, I realized at the very last minute that I had to be at the kids' school to meet with the gifted education specialist. Ben gets to join the gifted program this year! ...maybe he'll learn some better metaphors...*)