Are We There Yet?
She's trying hard to hide from homework
Lori Clinch

I feel that my love for my children exhibits itself best in their hours of need.

I've been there for third-strike disputes, three-second lane violations, and while another mother might have headed for the hills during the altercation that followed an illegal motion out on the front lawn, I heard both sides, listened with intent, and firmly told them to replay the down.

Although I once ran like the wind while they clobbered each other in the Wal-Mart parking lot, my heart is always in the right place.

Still, there are times when I'd rather take the low road and bow out of my responsibilities. Especially when it comes to school projects.

As I'm sure you know, a lesser woman would scoff at the idea of homework. A weaker mother would run at the prospect of calculations, and a feeble mind would crawl under the bed and refuse to come out as the children peered under the dust ruffle and poked at her with a stick.

As for me, I'm sometimes too stupid to run. Instead of hiding behind the sofa or crouching behind the latrine, I've been ignorant enough to remain in the steady flow of traffic and be totally oblivious to the child who is approaching me with a math book.

I've also been heedless to the child who has a detailed outline and a seven-page permission form that he needs me to sign for a scientific study.

"What sort of experiment do you plan to conduct?" I asked my darling child just the other night.

"I fully plan to observe and outline the effects that the lack of sleep can have on the human body."

"Great," I said as I hopped up on a barstool. "Let's start with me. I haven't had a good night's rest since I gave birth."

"No," he said matter-of-factly. "I have to study someone who hasn't slept for 24 hours."

"What kind of fool are you going to find to do that?"

"I don't know," he said. "What are your plans for Saturday?"

At that moment, like the willful person that I am, I began to fake a cough and pretended to wheeze. I ran down the hall, rounded the corner, went straight into my bedroom and ducked into my closet where I keep a stack of magazines and a flashlight in the corner. I was preparing to enjoy the silence and was about to take a deep and relaxing breath when I felt a presence beside me.

"I knew you'd show up eventually," the presence said.

"How did you know?" I asked with shock.

"Because we've often come here to hide from you."

Can a woman have no secrets?

"What do you need?"

"I need you to help me work on an invention for my Invent America Project." Well, color me mentally leaving the conversation. Not to be dissuaded, the little dear continued with, "I plan to design and construct a heated driveway. Won't that be great?" he asked with all of the confidence that the ignorance of youth will allow. "That way I can play basketball outside and all winter long."

"You'll have to come up with something easier than that, little mister. We're still trying to pay off the debt we incurred during your older brother's Invent America Project that he conducted back in 2001."

"That's no fair, you let him invent a recliner for the bleachers at ball games."

"Yes, but we were young and stupid at the time."

"How about if I promise to do all of the work myself?"

"How about if you do something creative with baking soda?"

"Baking soda is boring. How about I build a life-size robot?"

"How about a low-carb chocolate bar?"

"Mom!" I heard the scientific child exclaim as he approached the closet door. "I knew you'd be in here. Now, I need you to read this eight-page exemption form and sign it saying that you'll release myself and the school from any and all liability for injuries or anguish that you'll experience during this procedure. Oh, and you might want to stock up on some caffeine."

Whatever happened to the days when a person got by with simply making a call for a three-second lane violation?

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch.com.