November 4: Daughter and Dance and Homework

I just got home a little while ago.  It's almost ten o'clock.  My daughter had a dance performance tonight at a local high school.  It was one of those nights where all the area dance studios and schools put on a show to raise money.  It happens every year, right after Halloween.

My daughter was great.  I would have enjoyed myself much more if there hadn't been a girl behind me with the voice of a lumberjack who kept yelling things like "Go, Jackie!" and "Way to go, Jackieeeeee!!!!"  By the end of the evening, I was wishing for a hearing impairment.  Other than that, I had a great time.

Now, my daughter is doing her homework.  She has a lot of homework.  Math and language arts (that's what they call English nowadays) and social studies.  It's going to be a long night for her, and yet she still refuses to follow my advice about turning off electronic devices and just doing her work.  She frustrates me a great deal, and she's not officially a teenager for another month.

I don't remember being quite so . . . difficult when I was a teenager.  I don't remember being moody or temperamental or cranky.  I can't recall a single instance where I deliberately went against my father's or mother's instructions about homework or housework.  I was a perfect teen.  Diligent.  Studious.  Respectful.  Loyal.  Trustworthy.

Saint Marty was practically a  Labrador retriever.

My senior picture in high school