Dropped Out of School, or Kicked Out of the House

Kids are funny. There's no doubt about about that. And we moms tend to think our own kids are the funniest. But mine actually are.

So today I'd like to focus on my youngest two.

First Eli. As some background, let's just say that Eli doesn't really love to do schoolwork. That is not to say that he doesn't like school. He likes lots of things about school, most especially the social aspects. Let's be honest; Eli is a Webster through and through. But when it comes to doing homework, you know, the assignments given by teachers at school, he is not all that impressed. So every week or so, usually on Tuesday because he has only one class on Tuesday, I receive a call. I see "Eli Webster" on my Caller ID, and I get super excited because I just love to hear from Eli. Then comes his sweet voice, usually telling me that he does not want to do his homework and that instead, he thinks he will just drop out. (I'd like to point out that in the end, Eli always does his homework, and currently, over half way into the semester, he is earning an A in every class).

However.

He doesn't like to do homework or write papers or read stuff or study for tests. Not one of those things does he like to do. So our last Tuesday's conversation was even more hilarious than usual:

Me: Hi Eli!

Eli: Sup, Mom?

Me: Not much. How are you?

Eli: I don't want to do my homework.

Me: Well, you have to, Eli.

Eli: But I really don't want to read all this stuff or write this essay.

Me: I know you don't want to do those things, but you have to.

Eli: I think I will just drop out instead.

Me: Eli, you are not dropping out of your classes.

Gerald (overhearing my end of the conversation): What classes does he want to drop out of?

Me: I think he wants to drop out of all of them.

Eli: No, I'm gonna stay in my College Success class.


And then there is Seth.

As some background, most of you know that Shulamith and her husband and two babies live downstairs in an apartment under our house. It's the best thing ever! And I mean ever! Her son, Swen is 2 1/2. I don't know how familiar you are with 2 1/2-year-olds, but they are extremely productive. And determined. And relentless. And skilled! Swen is particularly so. He has an agenda, a very serious one. It includes such things as taking all the silverware out of the drawer and scattering it all over the kitchen and dining room. It includes finding both the garbage and recycling containers, and insisting that we take out the semi-full bags and replace them with fresh bags, so he can "play garbage," which means to gather every single item he can find in the house and put it into one of the two garbage cans. It includes taking all his toys (and some non-toys) and throwing them, one by one, over the railing and onto the furniture in the living room below. It includes removing all the plastic bags from their package and spreading them all over the floor. And that is only a partial list of Swen's important work.

And he is so very good at it. I'm pretty sure no toddler in the history of toddler-hood can trash a house any more quickly or efficiently. In fact, the last toddler I remember who could achieve this level of job performance was a little boy named Seth. That's right, my own child, who is now 14. Problem is, Seth has no memory of doing this very important work. None at all. So the other night, after Swen had ransacked the house, and I was begging Seth to help me clean it all up, he and I had this conversation:

Seth: I don't think you should let Swen live here anymore.

Me: What? Swen can live here as long as he wants to. What are you talking about?

Seth: No, you really need to kick him out. Shulamith and Matt and Kennedy can still live here, but Swen needs to go.

Me: Where you would suggest he go?

Seth: He could go to a foster home! We could all still visit him every day, so we wouldn't miss him, but he could destroy someone else's house.