we waited too late to start a homework assignment. it was sunday evening, we had just finished dinner, and it occurred to me that liam had a book report due. i use the term "book report" loosely; it's really just an open-ended prompt like, "tell me about your favorite part" that he can answer in a few as a couple sentences.
but Lord have mercy, those couple sentences can take HOURS when it's liam at the culmination of a tiring weekend when the last thing he wants to be doing is gripping a pencil in his hand and forming letters to spell words that answer a question about a book he barely remembers. (note to self: we simply must be more prompt with his book reports.)
as is his tendency, the second things started going wrong -- he forgot to capitalize a letter, or smudged the paper while erasing -- he decided to throw himself a pity party. "i can't dooooooo this!" he wailed. "i am so horrible at book reports!"
"come on, liam, you know that's not true," i said to him, barely even glancing his way while cleaning up the kitchen, as i've heard this all before. "you're great at book reports, just like you're great at everything you put your mind to."
"ButMommy, i'm not great at everything," he replied, because that's where we are these days: smack dab in the middle of Retortville. you can't say anything to liam without a response flying right back, whether you requested one or not. as i prepared myself to redirect him away from this inane argument and back to the subject at hand, he continued.
"for example, i'm not good at asian languages. and you KNOW i've put my mind to that. the only word i even know is tock-yo."
i opened my mouth to show him how to correctly pronounce "tokyo", and then thought better of it. better to end the conversation at that moment than drag it out for another half hour.
but he's right, you know. he really isn't great at everything. even asian languages.
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