Monday
12/01/03
Windex, Underwear, And Homework
As my boys grow, the one thing I can count on is being confronted daily by new challenges. These challenges, as with pretty much everything else in life, run the gamut from the Mundane to the Epic. Mundane is pretty much covered by the boy’s daily search for missing Yugioh underwear. We keep buying them, and they keep being wherever the boys aren’t looking. Epic is witnessing my six-year-old explosively projectile vomit over two thirds of the kitchen floor. Boy, that sure was something I’ve never experienced before, but in the end no one was more surprised than the six-year-old.
Anyway, three full rolls of paper towels and half a bottle of Windex later, it occurred to me that another challenge for which I was completely unprepared is the eight-year-old’s math homework. Now I’m certainly no math whiz; in fact it’s fair to say that I’m the exact opposite of a math whiz, but I really expected to get a couple more years in before being confounded by the stuff he brings home.
There are, for instance, these math-line-puzzle-thingies where you have to put a given set of numbers into various lines in a box so you get the same sum regardless of which direction you go. I did finally work out the trick to getting it started, but jeez, then my eight year old caught on to the whole thing right away and whipped through the rest of them in a flash. Dad sure did feel like a knucklehead… wait, no, just challenged.
There are, of course, countless more challenges on the way, and lot more homework that will be completely beyond me in the coming years, but I know I have one skill that will always separate me from the boys: At least I can find my own damn underwear.
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Windex, Underwear, And Homework
As my boys grow, the one thing I can count on is being confronted daily by new challenges. These challenges, as with pretty much everything else in life, run the gamut from the Mundane to the Epic. Mundane is pretty much covered by the boy’s daily search for missing Yugioh underwear. We keep buying them, and they keep being wherever the boys aren’t looking. Epic is witnessing my six-year-old explosively projectile vomit over two thirds of the kitchen floor. Boy, that sure was something I’ve never experienced before, but in the end no one was more surprised than the six-year-old.
Anyway, three full rolls of paper towels and half a bottle of Windex later, it occurred to me that another challenge for which I was completely unprepared is the eight-year-old’s math homework. Now I’m certainly no math whiz; in fact it’s fair to say that I’m the exact opposite of a math whiz, but I really expected to get a couple more years in before being confounded by the stuff he brings home.
There are, for instance, these math-line-puzzle-thingies where you have to put a given set of numbers into various lines in a box so you get the same sum regardless of which direction you go. I did finally work out the trick to getting it started, but jeez, then my eight year old caught on to the whole thing right away and whipped through the rest of them in a flash. Dad sure did feel like a knucklehead… wait, no, just challenged.
There are, of course, countless more challenges on the way, and lot more homework that will be completely beyond me in the coming years, but I know I have one skill that will always separate me from the boys: At least I can find my own damn underwear.
