The Sunday Of Misery

Sunday, Zuki and I spent six hours doing his schoolwork. Six-friggin' hours! That's a job, if you ask me. I'm almost tempted to take it out of his savings account. Even if I cracked open his version of a piggy bank, which is a tin Pokemon box, I'd be lucky to get eight dollars. I suppose that's why he paid me in advance with this lovely necklace he purchased during Christmas.

Zuki's necklace for Mommy

Okay, dude - you're forgiven. It's nice that one of my guys buys me jewelry. Although, I'm not allowed to take it out of the box and actually wear it. I might lose it, Zuki reasons.

To be honest, he's absolutely right. It's why I never wear jewelry - not even a wedding ring. Quite frankly, even if I had the real deal, Zuki's necklace is one I'd like to keep until the day I'm simultaneously laughing and trying to keep my false teeth from falling out of my head.

Yes, six hours of school work sounds extreme but we were working on a school project. Ugh. It's happening already. Next year, it'll be science projects and I have a feeling that somehow it's going to lead to keeping a pet.

This project, however, was a five page essay on something about New York. He chose transportation. Yippee - the subway. I promised myself not to harp on the negative and might I say, the research taught me enough to develop a new-found respect for our subterranean jungle. In the end, Zuki did a fabulous job. True, I helped with the writing. And the editing. And with putting the whole thing together - but come - onnnnn. It's second grade! They're not going to get a Steve Jobs presentation - they're getting Microsoft.

As it was, six hours of working with an air head did make me nuts. I felt like Kathy Bates tormenting James Caan in "Misery." While there was no ankle-smashing with a sledgehammer, there was an undeniable urge to play Liberace when Zuki finally learned - after 3.5 hours of drilling - that "transportation" ends with t-i-o-n. Not s-h-u-n. Air head.

And then there was his incessant need to play with his loose tooth. Granted, if my front tooth were loose, I don't think I could work - at all. I get a small blister or even a pimple and my attention would be focused on irritating it until it was pop-worthy. So, Zuki would write a word, play with his tooth, start writing again, play with his tooth - it was all I could do to stop myself from taking out a pair of pliers and pry the little sucker out.
The following morning, he pulled it out of his head like King Arthur's sword in a stone. When he's less shy about his air conditioned mouth, I promise to post a picture.