My little procrastinator knows his letters; he just detests writing. He tried every ploy to avoid his assignment. He addressed one Valentine and then hopped out of the chair, complaining that he was wearing the wrong pants. He was insistent that he change into his "writing pants" before continuing with his homework. Silly me, I didn't realize that he had specialized trousers.
Donning the proper pants, we resumed our homework project. He addressed two more cards before his motivation began to falter. This time he ask for a break claiming that his "hand muscles were getting too strong to hold the pen." He warned that the pen might "snap into two" if he didn't relax. By this time we were an hour into the project and I needed Tylenol, so I agreed to the break.
All told, Robby and I invested nearly four hours of our weekend in addressing his 18 Valentine's. Much of this I spent listening to his complaints about writing and trying to block out his whines of fatigue and of being "bored." By Saturday night I was beginning to wish that we had some brandy to spike my coffee.
I'm not sure who was happier when Robby finished addressing the final Valentine, him or me. I don't understand where he got his passionate hatred of handwriting. I have decided to blame this unattractive trait on Scott because I remember taking pride in my penmanship when I was young. In spite of his complaints and nearly constant whining, Robby's letter formations are good.
Before Robby was born I worked as a teacher for the visually impaired. I taught basic handwriting skills to numerous children with little or no vision. I have come to the sad conclusion that teaching blind children penmanship was easier, quicker, and less stressful than teaching Robby!
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