October 28, 2008
So when I was in the fourth grade I had to do a report on the preying mantis. Turns out the women bite the heads off their male partners right after they are impregnated. Just one of life's little lessons I learned at a very early age. Here was another lesson I learned at a pretty early age. If you screw around long enough - someone else will inevitably do your work for you.
I learned this in the fourth grade on said report. The person kind enough to help finish what I should have, aka sucker, in this case was my mom. If I recall what happened correctly - I half-assed my way through the old praying mantis report, with my mother critiquing it. I believe her response to my effort went something like "this piece of crap is what you are going to turn in? It's terrible, a second grader would have done a better job." Devastating. Instead, however, of having me rework my report (you know, and include research and maybe some facts rather than just random drawings of insects), mom cranked out the old encyclopedia and type-writer and got to work. No way in hell was I going to impinge the family name turning in that piece of garbage. I believe we got a B+ for our efforts.
The next year when my report was on Galileo Galilei, she didn't even risk me attempting to write the report. No, she figured I would just slow her down and went to went about the report with great vigor. I believe that year we received a B (standards are obviously higher in the fifth grade) with a note back saying "I am surprised by the breadth and depth of your vocabulary Alex. Not many 5th graders know the true meaning of the word antidisestablishmentarianism, which you so eloquently worked into your report."
Always one to strive to do better, Mom promised to double up on next years report. I should point out that I'm not sure she went through this kind of effort for all six of my other brothers and sisters, but then again - she probably didn't make their breakfast and pack their lunch everyday until they were 28 either. I can't tell you - you'd have to ask them.
The reason I bring this up is because I now see how this level of parental involvement and commitment develops. It starts small, but then eventually gets bigger and bigger until they are showing up at job interviews with you when you are like 36 vouching for his abilities.
So we had pumpkin carving night at preschool the other night - and I think I've discovered how it all gets started. Here's how it went down in the Keenan household. Julie asked Parker what kind of jack-o-lantern he wanted to carve. Since PK is learning about all sorts of shapes and sizes these days he said he wanted triangle eyes, oval nose, and a smiley face. Hell, even I can do that - and I am functionally retarded. So off we go to school, and I bring with me a steak knife and teaspoon. Turns out carving pumpkins is a lot harder than one might think.
I am trying to get Parker to help (that's just genius - give a steak knife to a three year old), but he was way more interested in looking for cars and trucks that were in the classroom. It suddenly became Daddy's project - it only looked like it was done by a four year old. We take our "jack-o-lantern" into the room where every other parent was. To say some people had perhaps taken their childs project perhaps a bit too seriously is perhaps an understatement. They brought a bevy of pumpkin carving tools (who knew they even existed?) - and if I am not mistaken, someone managed to carve a to scale replica of the Sistine Chapel. That was a good time.
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