A Tale of Two Brothers

It is the best of times, it is the worst of times, it is the age of a seven-year-old’s wisdom, it is the age of teenaged crankiness, it is the epoch of belief in dad’s infallibility, it is the epoch of disgust with dad’s abject incompetence, it is the season of light-hearted giggles over a burp, it is the season of dark storm clouds because the electric pencil sharpener is too loud, it is the hope of spring, it is the despair of winter, it is a day filled with eagerness for a full slate of lessons, it is a day filled with dread for a full slate of lessons, it is a child approaching his schoolwork with a Heavenly disposition, it is a child approaching his schoolwork from the other direction – in short, it is a tale of two homeschooled brothers, and one of them just entered puberty.

Oy.

When this morning’s peace and tranquility was shattered by raised voices in the basement, it was due to General Mayhem complaining that the electric pencil sharpener was too loud and his sister could not hear the Mickey Mouse Club. That was rational. She was so focused on Goofy’s Olympics (he earned a gold medal in Rake Stepping – nobody takes a rake handle to the schnozzle like Goofy) that she clearly did not hear the offending clatter. That didn't matter to the General.  I like the fact that the General is protective of his little sister. Now all I have to do is redirect his protectiveness towards stranger danger and away from the eminent threat of loud electric devices. To date, the only threat from a pointy stylus in the hands of Major Havoc is to the correct spelling of the English language.

I sent the oldest boy back to bed. Fourteen hour’s worth of sleep obviously did not do the job. A fifteenth hour was needed. When he re-entered the day it was with a cherry disposition that allowed him to get so engrossed in an excerpt from Robinson Crusoe that he read both today’s and tomorrow’s entry and then asked for me to buy the novel for him to read. Meanwhile, the Major had completed 5/8 of his work was itching to begin the next eighth.

I wrote that last line for the Boss. Nothing says “I love you” like fractions.

So goes the tale of two brothers. Major Havoc asks to begin his school work when his feet hit the floor in the morning. General Mayhem would prefer to begin his lessons after lunch and conclude them five minutes later, finished or not. I don’t really care when he begins his lessons, as long as he has completed them satisfactorily before I start cooking dinner, long before we need to leave for evening activities. It will be interesting to discover where the Captain fits into this mix when she starts classes here next year.