I used to hope for straight answers about homework. I didn’t think I would hear the excuses, the stumbling and more misdirection than a presidential press conference.

And then I had boys.

I had an inkling they would be different, based on my alert observations in child development classes. It wasn’t long after the boys entered school when they distinguished themselves with their eating and bathing habits.

For the most part, girls were so easy with homework. They could be stranded in an Iraqi Department of Motor Vehicles line and they would still have their books out. No phone calls from teachers that I can remember. My daughters made their old man look like a genius.

Oh how different it is now. My boys are hardwired to chew with their mouth open, stall after school and explain away missing assignments.

They’ve got a story for everything, it seems. I’m sure, given enough time, they could convince me that Bigfoot lives and John Travolta never made a bad movie.

Some of my favorite excuses:

“I know I turned that in.”

“I did all the stuff that I could do.” (My boys would make great union workers. That’s not my job.)

“I’m planning to do that later,” (after complete that necessary research  with DISH television.)

And the stalling. It never stops. I’m pretty certain that Spencer could get sidetracked by Snuggie commercial.

But still, I keep teaching about importance of  school and how it will prepare them for life.

I’m just wondering when I should tell them about my record of 22 missing assignments.