Scene: After spending the morning at the airport on a field trip with our co-op we returned home to finish our school work. We’re sitting at our big kitchen/living room island — the hub of our home where we do most of our schoolwork, eat most of our meals, create works of art with crayons and socialize with our friends.
Ella is working on her handwriting. I’m at my computer doing something really important like reading a blog or checking out status updates on Facebook (which is what I do when I’m procrastinating some unpleasant chore I need to accomplish). Claire is sitting with her math book open while she stares at the ceiling and daydreams.
Me: Claire, you need to finish those two pages before you can go out and skate with your sister.
Claire: I know.
[Ten minutes pass. Ella is done with her handwriting. I’m still reading that blog and Claire is still procrastinating. I don’t know where she gets it from.]
Me: Claire, you’ve done two problems in the last ten minutes. Do you think you can finish before dinner tonight?
Claire: Uh, huh.
Ella: Come on Claire, finish so we can play.
Me: Sounds like a good suggestion Ella.
[Ten more minutes pass. I’m finally done procrastinating and I’m in the kitchen prepping dinner. Claire is still procrastinating.]
Claire: I know, I know. I need to finish my math.
[Long pause that includes some very dramatic sighs from Claire. Not sure where that dramatic gene comes from. Must be from her expressive father.]
Me: Yes Claire.
Claire (in her most serious of voices): God told me that you shouldn’t make me do math anymore.
My seven year old daughter is now a prophet. I can only imagine the things God is going to tell her when she hits her teens.