My oldest son is 7, and he was a little preoccupied at dinner last night.
We dined out, and he brought one of his library books and notepad with him. Seemed odd, since he never has homework on the weekend. Then, out of the blue, Griff sighed, saying…
“It sure will take some time to copy all twelve chapters.”
All twelve chapters? Seemed a little excessive for homework. I scanned what he’d written so far, and he began by copying the book’s title, as well as “Foreword written by blah blah blah,” Copyright 1992.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Well, my library book is due back on Monday, and I didn’t finish reading it. So, I’m making myself a copy to keep at home.”
Gotta admire his determination. Here I used to pull all-nighters in college writing book reports the night before they were due, and my son was WILLING to copy a book verbatim, in pencil no less, by CHOICE.
If it weren’t for the fact that the boy was a less-clumsy spitting image of myself, I’d wonder if I’d brought the wrong baby home at birth.
Nevertheless, I told Griff about a wonderful invention called a “copy machine” that makes copies for you to save you time. Not to mention another little important term called “copyright.” But, Griff wasn’t impressed.
“No thanks, Mom.”
But, it didn’t last. He got sidetracked by a gigantic ice cream sundae with a mountain of blue whipped cream, and never made it past chapter two.
Can’t blame him for tryin.