it’s not you.
On Saturday morning I made sure we were all rested, well-fed, and yoga-ed.
And then I plastered a fake smile on my face, feigned enthusiasm, and asked Maya if she was ready to tackle her book report.
Although Maya replied in the affirmative, I’m going to go ahead and say that she really wasn’t ready at all. I know this because after 45 long minutes of discussing “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” we accomplished nothing more than the following:
- Maya wrote one sentence describing the fact that the book takes place during winter.
- Maya shot several “I hate you” glares in my direction.
- When Maya wasn’t looking I pantomimed (for Ali’s benefit) putting myself out of my misery via a fake gun.
I finally told Maya that helping her with her homework was of absolutely NO benefit to me and that she needed to pick her entire assignment up and go to her room and figure it out.
As Maya lumbered to her room at the pace of a snail, my husband decided he was going to be a hero and straighten things out.
Ali: “I’m going to help her with her book report.”
Me: “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all morning. Loads of luck to you.”
Here’s what happened next:
- Ali went into Maya’s room armed with his usual load of patience. He asked Maya to tell him what the book was about.
- Maya replied that it was about “a whole lot of things.”
- Ali did what I’d done minutes earlier: he outlined the book on a piece of paper.
- Maya insisted she still didn’t know what the book was about.
- Ali asked, “How is that possible when you read the book and both Mom and I discussed it with you?”
- Maya: “I don’t know.”
- Ali: “You don’t know? Well how about this: Do. It. Do you know what those two words mean at least?”
Ali stormed out of Maya’s room, returned to the living room, and then took a turn pantomiming his death. This time via a sharp object.
And then he said the most magical 8 words I’ve ever heard: “I thought it was you. It’s not you.”
Thank God someone understands that. Finally.