So the way this homework thing works is: Zan brings home on Monday a packet of homework that he needs to complete by Friday. Tonight, before dinner, he and I sat at the table to take care of some of it, me with the goal of helping him complete two of the seven pages.
Now, let’s talk about a couple of pleasant surprises:
1.) We got through three pages of homework tonight. Three. Uno, dos, tres. And we were psyched and high-fiving and having a grand ol’ time. We’ve already had a couple “I don’t wanna do homework” semi-meltdowns here, so tonight’s experience was a welcome one indeed.
2.) I took exactly one math class in college. I was required to take at least one, and the least was plenty for me, thank you. I think the course title was “Math 1” … or maybe it was “Math for shitheads who never plan on taking another math class for as long as they live, so help them god, amen.” There are reasons I ended up writing for a living, people … and one of those reasons is BLECH! MATH! Now, as if the whole athleticism thing wasn’t enough of a tip off that a DNA test might be in order to determine who this boy’s real father is, I’ve discoverd that my son loves math. Yes, he used the word “love” when referring to the practice of working with numbers. (Is it true that an over-the-counter DNA-test kit now exists? I might need to run a quick errand.)
Actually, there was a third pleasant surprise, too: as mentioned in the previous Photo of the Day, I am not at all a fan of giving 6-year-old kids homework. Having said that, I’m pretty sure I actually enjoyed doing my son’s homework with him. Seeing how well he’s doing and how much he already knows is very cool, and any activity that requires he and I to spend time together on a nightly basis for years to come is alright with me.