Tomorrow is back to school after a long holiday break. And about one hour before bedtime tonight, one of the girls found her homework, meant to have been easily done one page a day over the break. I, of course, hadn’t opened anyone’s backpack since they got home two weeks ago. (Their lunches may still be rotting, but that’s another story.)
She did as much as she could of her homework, and wrote, “Forgot” on the pages she didn’t get to finish; I laughed when I saw that, but it is indeed, accurate. I was annoyed with myself for not making sure the kids were doing whatever work they were assigned all along their break–how many times had I screamed about too much television anyway? Why hadn’t I just been a little more organized from day one–or three or four or seven? Why can’t they just be more organized? Why do I have to remind everyone of everything all the time; don’t I get a break?
And then I thought about all the “projects” they worked on–the bizarre, rambling, sweet stories and songs and plays they authored; the pictures that were drawn; the shows performed in the living room and at grandma and poppy’s house–and I realized their time was spent sometimes being very loud and messy, but often using imagination and skill. Certainly, there were too many Good Luck Charlie episodes playing on weekends (I had a dream I was in an episode recently if that tells you how many I have seen), and there are many new toys now played with and ignored; but balanced with those have been original and strange stories about confused princesses and sinister foxes and superheroes tapped out on the computer or written in magic marker with accompanying drawings.
As well, the girls started reading new series of books. I know because they like to tell me when they finish each chapter, sometimes when they finish a single page.
Anyway, I have to brave the lunch boxes. But here is an original recent short story by the six-year-old girl. (I fixed up her grammar a bit. Her spelling was actually fine.)
Once upon a time it was a sunny day and everyone went outside. But only one person did not. He was home watching T.V. and eating a sandwich. But then it got dark and he went to his room and cried. And he did not get to go outside the other days either but then it was snowing, so he did not get to go outside when it was snowing. So he cried until January. Then he went to his papa’s house. It was too hot to go outside, so he cried even more but he got over it in April.