Routine Remembered

We've rolled into it quite nicely this time-- the school-year routine with its early mornings and family breakfasts, long days and varied evenings. The children have adapted nicely-- even happily-- to the return to school, and they do their homework without prodding and they ask for screen-time when they haven't earned it and they go to bed too late. Just Like Always.

Of course we are hoping that, in some ways, we've moved on from where we used to be. Our daughter has had quite the talking-to about not correcting her teacher (or anyone else for that matter); we've had the conversations about kindness and loving others No Matter What. And we are hoping that lessons enforced about, say, tidiness in one's homework will carry on into this new school year.

So there he sat-- weary from football practice-- reaching for his math book to do the last twelve problems. His binder-- newly organized and stocked with appropriate supplies-- looked so neat and clean that I had to say so: "Look at that!" I said, "Look at that neat and clean binder." And it was so neat and clean, and there on the top was a nice clean blank sheet of paper, just waiting to be filled with math problems.

Then came the text book, and pulled from beneath the cover was the Other math paper, the one holding the first half of the problem set, all rumpled and wrinkled fit (almost) for the trash can (for that's what happens, don't you know, when you slip a perfectly tidy math paper inside the cover of your math book and then drop it into your book bag).

And there was my son, examining it only briefly, and then smoothing and smoothing it on the coffee table. "It's fine," he said, looking up at us while still trying to rub the wrinkles out. "It's fine, it's fine. I'm not starting over."