Is it too early to teach him, "The dog ate my homework"?

It started in sixth grade. And lasted until . . . um, when I quit teaching the year before last.

I'm terrible about doing my homework. Even in subjects I like. Even when my homework was simply grading my students' work (though I had no problem getting the grading done while I was physically at school). Even if it'll take me only five minutes.

This should no longer be a problem for me, but karma has a sense of humor.

Lovebug and I have homework for his speech therapy.

I have to make him do weird things involving his tongue and Cheerios. I have try to close his jaw while he holds it open. I have to try to make him drink out of a big boy cup.

I knew, of course, that the day would come when my children would have homework. But checking their work or reading with them isn't the same as this. In fact, I think this might be worse than the pages of long division my mean old fourth grade teacher, Mrs.Limbacher, assigned us. Because Lovebug is a passionate child. A child who has definite ideas about what he does (and does not) like. A child whose speech problem comes mainly from his strong attachment to sippy cups (according to the speech therapist, sippy cups are VERY BAD for kids learning to talk. Oddly, they didn't affect Ironflower in the least, but whatever) and his lack of interest in articulating correctly. A child who doesn't really like his speech homework.

Hot Guy's argument is that he is only two, we can generally understand him and that all of this is kind of ridiculous. Nonetheless, he will probably be better about Lovebug's homework than I will. I understand his point and I know that all the speech therapists I used to work with would never recommend a two year old who's only a few months behind in articulation (and ahead in comprehension) for therapy. But, to use the classic saying, we're not in Kansas (City) anymore. Around here, lots of toddlers and preschoolers get speech therapy. And I bet THEIR mothers do the homework in a timely and conscientious fashion.

So excuse me, I'm going to go teach my son how to pick up Cheerios with his tongue.