I am making a big mistake, and my children have it all figured out. While I am giving out/cleaning up snacks for the 6 extra kids at the house, trying to get dinner started, greeting parents who are coming to pick up their children, and finding stray shoes and diaper bags, it never fails that it is at that precise moment that it occurs to me to ask my children how much homework they have. Somewhere between the words leaving their lips and them reaching my ears, they must undergo a radical tranformation because I never hear the correct amount. Since they "only have" one paper left or just a couple of pages to read, I'm always deluded into thinking that it can wait until all of the extra kids are gone and the decibel level has returned to that of a jackhammer instead of a lear jet at takeoff.
I must have missed the day at school that talks about how "only one page" can multiply into homework in three different subjects in the space of just a few hours. Apparently the closer it gets to bedtime, the more work is actually involved.
My only consolation right now is that The Hubster is actually checking Drama Queen's homework tonight. I can hardly keep myself from laughing in glee as I hear him struggling over math questions and then trying to explain what she did wrong. Free at last, free at last. Thank God I'm free at last. For tonight anyway.
8:40 PM ~