Ask Captain Dramatic

Homework is a difficult task in our house. Captain Dramatic hates it, thinks it is a waste of his time, and makes it a lot more difficult than it has to be. I am sure he isn't the only child who feels this way, or makes the task harder than it has to be. Tuesday night was not an exception.

Me: Do you homework.
CD: I am.

His pencil hasn't moved in minutes. I leave the dishes and join him at the kitchen table, and prepare for another battle of wills. He has one sheet of paper in front of him. It has one algebra word problem on it. It requires a written explanation of what the problem is asking the student to solve for, and then the student must solve the problem, showing their work.

Me: You haven't written anything.
CD: I don't get it.
Me: Yes you do. You just don't want to do it. That is different.
CD: **Big sigh**Eyeroll**
Me: Just get it over with and do the homework.
CD: Fine.

He begins to write. I can't ever read what he is writing he is scribbling so fast.

Me: OK. Now you can erase it all and write it again, so that I can read it.
CD: God mom! You can read that!
Me: No. I can't. Do it again and this time do it right.
CD: Fine!

And he begins to erase one word at a time.

Me: Seriously?

He starts laughing.

CD: I have to make sure I erase completely.

I raise an eyebrow and stare. He keeps laughing, and begins erasing one letter at a time.

CD: See one letter at a time works better. It is more thorough. See?
Me: I see no difference.
CD: Let me try one molecule at a time.

He laughs even harder, as he erases the smallest amount he can, brushes the page, and erases a tiny bit more. I am pretty fed up at this point. There was still a teaspoon on the table from dinner, and I picked it up.

CD: OK! OK! I will do it right!

He finally gets the page erased, and starts to rewrite his explanation. Of course, he has to read it one word at a time as he writes it.

CD: The prob-lem is ask-ing me to fig-ure out how much mon-ey the fish-ies...
Me: The plural for fish, is fish, not fishies.
CD: I know, but I like fishies.
Me: Erase fishies, and write it correctly.
CD: No I like fishies, and this is math. He isn't going to care if I don't use the right plural for fish.
Me: Right now, it isn't him you have to worry about pleasing. Change it.
CD: I don't see what the big deal is.
Me: **Big sigh**Eyeroll** (yes, I know where he gets it from)
CD: Fish-ies cost.

He stops, looks at the page.

CD: Nevermind. I don't like how that looks.
Me: Really? You can write so sloppy that I can't read it, and that didn't bother you. You can argue about fishies, and that is OK, but now that you wrote it, you think it looks funny?

He simply stared at me. I put my head in my hands. I was so ready to scream. He continues.

CD: How much the FISH cost-ed
Me: COST! NOT COST-ED!

I threw the spoon down on the table. CD immediately starts laughing hysterically. He has moved about as far away from me as he can through fits of laughter strangled breaths, and he manages to utter:

CD: I didn't write costed! I didn't write costed! You so should have seen your face though! So wroth it!

At this point, I couldn't keep a straight face any longer. I burst out laughing too. I then proceeded to call in Dad-E. I needed back-up.


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