Dear Steven Spielberg: I may or may not have missed your call. Sorry. I’ve been busy starring in my son’s homework.
Ever since my son’s teacher asked the class to make a movie, his mind has been possessed by story concepts, scene ideas and camera angles. Part of me wants to thank this teacher for introducing my son to a newfound passion. The other part wants to tell him that it’s his turn to come over and do laundry. That statement is more relevant than it sounds.
A day in the life at my house lately
Son: Okay mom. It’s time to shoot that scene.
Me: What scene?
Son: You don’t listen to me. I told you last night we have to reshoot the scene where I kill you with a shovel.
Me: Again?!! Last time you nearly broke my ribs.
Son: Go change. You have to wear the same sweater.
Me: It’s in the laundry. I spilled spaghetti sauce on it, remember?
Son: What?!! YOU HAVE TO WEAR THAT SWEATER. Otherwise we have to reshoot everything we have so far.
Me: What’s with the “WE”? And since when is your homework my homework?
On the bright side
The good news is that I know where my son is – ALL THE TIME. He’s here. Setting up props, rearranging furniture and asking me to fill in as cameraman, actor, story advisor and even wardrobe consultant.
The other bright side is that my son is showing a driven and entrepreneurial spirit. He’s even saying things to me like, “Come on, mom. I’m short staffed here.”
To which I can only respond with what I always say when I’m trying to curb the need to roll my eyes: “Go do your homework.”
His response? “This IS my homework.”
I hate it when he’s right.