After the fun detailed in yesterday’s post, I couldn’t WAIT to hear how Chickadee’s essay/speech was received in class. Because I was sure she’d tanked and I wanted to savor her embarrassment, as any good parent would.
I asked how it went and she gleefully reported that “everyone’s speeches were too short” so “the teacher gave us all extensions until Thursday!” Huh. Well, I told her to get to work. She worked a good minute or two before asking for help, and I like to think the way I laughed in her face made it clear that my assistance was no longer available. We also had a discussion at dinner about scheduling and responsibility and how henceforth my help will NEVER be available the night before the assignment is due. She nodded and acted repentant and went back to work after dinner, and before bed I asked to see the finished product. “Are you going to edit?” she asked, hopefully.
“Nope, I just want to verify that it’s done,” I told her. Her face fell, and she forked over the assignment she’d spent all night “working” on. My trained editor’s eye found that… she had added a single sentence. “I thought you said it was too short?” I sputtered. “This is what you spent the night doing? Adding a single sentence?? It’s still too short which means you won’t pass!”
Well, she’s definitely honing those problem solver skills; with a huff and a flounce and a tone of voice that let me know exactly how stupid I am, she replied, “I’ll just talk slower. DUH.”
[That sound you hear in the distance is my father laughing his ass off.]