It’s come to this

All I do on school nights is ask questions that go unanswered, spell words aloud from another room, and explain why a rounded equation is reasonable. I’m fudging a bit on that last one, but even if I’m wrong they can’t get worse grades than I did in Math in grammar school. But they’d better be able to spell and use grammar, or I’ll beat the tar out’n them.

Tonight I have spelled faded, intrigue, cloudy, convenience, and…crap I just got interrupted again:

“Is there a bath ready in your room?”


“Is there a bath ready in any room?”

“No.” Awkward silence, which I ignore.

Jiminy. Can’t they run their own freaking baths? They are variously capable of completing an entire baseball season error free, kicking a ball with enough accuracy at a distance to hit a teacher in the head, and draw with incredible perspective and scale, but they can’t remember which handle is HOT and which is COLD and where to find a towel unless it is handed to them as they exit the water.

Just now, I heard a question and automatically answered it, only to hear, “Mom, are you ok?”

“Yes. I’m just trying to concentrate for one minute and my mind went blank when you asked me a question to which I know for a fact that both you and your younger siblings know the answer.”


Oh, indeed. Good luck finding the light switches on the way upstairs, Bucky. I don’t think you’ve ever done that on your own. Yes, we have two stories now, so you have to double your capacity for memorizing outlet locations.

ARGH—a fight about stomach capacity has erupted. I gotta go. Man, I live for this stuff.

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