The youngest two are dealing with the ennui of starting school back up after a long and fun Christmas holiday. They came to me to complain about how much they had to do and how hard it was and how they did not want to do it, and it was going to take forever, and they weren’t going to be finished before bedtime. They sprawled on my bed where I was sitting, wrapped up in blankets because it’s cold. They played the cute, hard.
“Let’s just have girl time,” said the FYG, batting her eyelashes at me and putting on the charm. The boy attempted to wriggle between us, “Hey, but that leaves me out!” he said. “I know,” she smirked.
They picked up the litany of complaints about their school load. I put in headphones and a K-drama and a smirk of my own.
The boy brought in a Ukelele, donned a pair of sunglasses and attempted to distract me. After a few minutes he sighed and told me my ignoring skills were amazing.
“Mom, this is serious,” said the girl. “This is a serious question about my school-work.”
I pulled out the earbuds. She showed me what was left on her schedule. I noted that in the time they’d just spent with me they could have finished half of it, and if they would just buckled down and get to it, they’d be done in no time.
They expressed indignant shock and disbelief.
“But we have another hour of griping,” said the boy.
“Yeah,” followed up the FYG, as if on script, “and after that there’s the procrastinating.”
“And then we have to start it all over again,” finished up the boy.
“So there’s no way” said one, “that we’ll be done before” said the other, ‘bedtime,’ they said together.
It was like they were volleying a tennis ball. I couldn’t keep a straight face, and they were pretty hilarified by themselves as well, right up until the moment I said that I was okay with bedtime being the end of the school day if that’s what they really wanted.
They might have been Abbot and Costello in a previous life, but I was Atilla the Hun.