pelican reasoning
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the dreaded math homework

20 February 2007
Aside from the sounds of Dave Matthews being played in the background, I can hear sounds of exaspiration eminating from downstairs. That exaspiration is coming from a nine year old who is not exactly keen on doing her math homework. Hence, why I am hiding upstairs.

Math is not my strong point, I will be the first to admit that. Clearly this is why I do not have a career which involves numbers, algebra, measuring or fractions. Unfortunately, this is yet another facet of life Clare has inherited from me in the old gene pool. She loves to draw and paint. She adores books and began to read at age three. Anything sciency is intriguing to her and English is a breeze. Identical to her mother. Math is a sore point in the daily grind of homework. Identical to her mother.

Normally I am the parent, exhausted from the long, long days, sitting there trying to muddle through the confusing word problems and jumbled digits on the endless pages of homework. Not tonight. It's her Dad's turn. He is off of work so I am taking the night off from math. Don't get me wrong, Clare is an exceptional student and makes straight A's. But math, being the most disliked subject to her, means I must motivate and prod her to get through till the end. This proves difficult when I lack the motivation to tackle the ominous looking facts and figures myself. We are in serious trouble once high school comes around. Either Greg needs to find some police work at that time which involves having school nights off or he needs to find a new line of work altogether. Algebra is just not my thing. I will be the one in tears if we go that route. Actually things sounds pretty happy and smooth down there now, the whining and protests have settled down somewhat. I think they have moved on from the word problems to the multiplication.

Being Shrove Tuesday (or Fat Tuesday, alternatively) we had pancakes for dinner. It was a pleasant diversion from the "what are we having for dinner tonight" routine. Ash Wednesday is around the corner- tomorrow in fact- which brings the annual tradition of ashes not only for us Catholics, but also for each of our pet's head. Those of you who have read since I began this online site, as well as those who know us personally, will recall the painstaking efforts each and every Ash Wednesday as we burn old palm leaves from the previous year to ensure the dogs have their ashes. This is a far cry from Clare shrinking back in horror in 2002 and refusing ashes for fear it was making her dirty (the only year of her life she refused ashes). After that incident, she decided if she had to have the ashes, so did Aoife and Reilly. Last year we almost made it to bed at 9pm without a mention of it, until we heard her shriek from her room--"THE DOGS NEED THEIR ASHES OR THEY ARE GOING TO HELL!". Interesting logic- theologically, but typical Clare. So there we were, burning a palm leaf and digging up Holy Water to mark the dogs' heads at 9.15 at night. This year we add a new victim, erm, soul to Clare's list. Molly the hamster. She is not joking. Our daughter is very stubborn, so if you think we can talk our way out of it, forget it. I better get those ashes ready tonight.

Tomorrow I have some brochure distribution to some local B&B's and various other businesses who want to join in the promotion of the Caverns and our accompanying attractions. So I can work in town rather than commute the half hour to work. We are not going to Mass until 6pm for our ashes, but Clare will go twice--in school and with us at 6. She is thrilled to have the opportunity to go twice in one day. I suppose if there were math involved, it would be a completely different story!

:: 7:50 p.m. ::
:: comment ::
before these :: crowded streets