Contraband

It's been less than a week since we've been done with school.

We've worked hard to accomplish this goal, and to be free to enjoy summer in all its splendor.

How then can it be possible that my little old man asks me for school work to do every day?  I've explained to him how exciting it is to have no school work, and he seems thrilled every time.  And yet...around the house I consistently find papers he has privately assigned himself.  His stashes are littered with penmanship practice, arithmetic problems and reading books.

A love of learning is a beautiful thing.  It's just kind of humorous that he hides his interest so stealthily, honing his skills in secret.  Perhaps he doesn't want to burst my bubble, but I'm on to him nonetheless.