LB came back from school with homework today. A questionnaire to fill in about sleep. Homework hasn’t really featured much in his life.

“I hate homework, Mum. I’m not doing it.”
“You’ve got to do it.”
“No. I’m not doing it, Mum. I’M.NOT.DOING.IT.MUM.”
“Don’t be silly, you’ve got to do it.”
“Why Mum? Why Mum? I HATE HOMEWORK MUM!!!”
“Stop shouting. Why do you hate it?”
“I HATE IT.”
“Why?”
“BECAUSE… I HATE IT. I don’t have to fill it in, Mum. I’m not doing it. I don’t want to FILL IT IN!”
“Pack it in. Tom has to do homework and he doesn’t like it. Why don’t you think you have to do it?”
“BECAUSE I’VE DONE A LOT OF HOMEWORK, MUM. ALL THE TIME. My life has been spent doing homework. All my life! I hate it. I hate it AND I’m not doing it.”
“You don’t do a lot of homework, matey. You’ve got to do it. It’s good for you.”
“Why’s it good for me, Mum?”
“It helps you to learn more.”
“I already know more, Mum. I’m not doing it, Mum.”
“Ok, tell me what you know…”
“Sleep’s good for you, Mum.”
“……”
“Anyway, homework’s boring. It’s depressing actually [makes crying noise]. It’s depressing, Mum. I’m NOT doing it, Mum. I hate it….I’M NOT DOING IT. THAT’S ALL.”

Silence.

“Can I do it now, Mum? Get it over with, Mum?”