Whatever Helps

It was after 11 p.m. last night. I was already in bed but my son was still downstairs doing homework. He’s got a hockey game tonight in Huntington Beach and he wanted to work ahead a little bit.

Then I heard: “WOOOOOOO! WAAAAAAAH! BABABABABABABABABABABABABA!”

I got up, went out to the stairs and yelled down, “What are you DOING?”

“It’s my homework war cry!” he yelled back.

Hmmm — having a homework war cry actually sounds like a pretty good idea to me so I let the matter slide and went back to bed . . .

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