I make it through my day by writing notes down on scraps of paper and today was another clean-up-the-hoards-of-scraps day at my house. Here’s what I came across today. I’d like to say he was in preschool when this happened but he wasn’t. He was in fourth when this little event occurred. His honesty is priceless.
Sensing my boy was having trouble starting his math homework, I tried to help him along.
Mom: Go ahead and write the six to start.
My boy: I can’t.
Mom: Sure you can, buddy. You can write a six. You’re smart, my friend.
My boy: No, I can’t.
Mom: Oh, I am so sure you can.
My boy: I can’t, Mom.
And, at this point thoughts about regression and seizures begin to crowd my mind and I wonder if something grave has happened that has stopped this fourth grade child from writing his numbers. Or, just as bad, has he gotten to the point of refusal because his fear of failure is so great? I’m definitely beginning to round it off to the nearest disaster but, before I voiced these fears out loud, I decided to hold my breath and calmly ask him what might be causing his inability to write that six.
Mom: What is stopping you?
My boy: My booger. I don’t know where to put my booger and I can’t hold my pencil because that booger is in my hand.
Okay, I have to be honest. At this point I was just trying to maintain my own composure so that I didn’t derail his homework any further. I let out my breath and tried not to laugh out loud.
Mom: Perhaps in a tissue and then in the trash?
My boy: That’s a good idea, Mom.
And that is when the disaster calms, the boy finally picks up the pencil AND, sure enough, is still able to make a six.
Problem solved for both of us 🙂