It's that time of year again...

No.. not time to clean closets or service the car... or plant daffodils or anything like that. It's that time of year when George loses his mind.

I can say that in a loving way because I am his mother.

I have noticed the pattern now. And I'm big on patterns. Once I find one - I'm hooked. No one will convince me there is no pattern here. This happens every year at this time. Every year just after the first couple of weeks back in school after Christmas break -- we lose George. Not just us - no - everyone loses George. George is lost.

It is now 3:26 pm. I am waiting for George. The last time I saw him was at 2:30 pm when he came home from school and I sent him upstairs to change out of his school uniform. I told him slowly: "Go.... change... your... clothes... Then... come... back." I said it three times. I asked him to repeat it. As he went up the stairs I shouted after him, "What are you going to do again, George?" He groaned and answered, "I'm just going to change my clothes, MOM." (You know how they say MOM like that... in that "gee you're irritating, woman" sort of way?) Right. Almost an hour later now - and I haven't seen him again. I could go upstairs and check to see what he's doing... But I'll bet I can guess... He's twirling around his room in some stage of undress. Or maybe he's sitting on his bed counting the snagged threads in his carpet. Whatever he's doing - I'm sure he's not changing his clothes.

I am sending William now -- in my place -- to go remind George to change his clothes... and tell him where the stairs are so he can remember how to get back here.

When he does find his way downstairs in a couple of hours I will have to remind him that he has homework to do. He will be angry and disappointed that he has to do homework. "Look what time it is, Mom!! I'm not going to get a chance to play tonight because of this homework!!" Nevermind the fact that it took him two hours to change his clothes and he could have been done by now... He doesn't care about that, you see -- he's nine. I will calmly tell him he needs to sit down and get started and it will be done in no time. Eventually he will sit at the table with papers in front of him.

I will ask if he's doing his homework and he will say 'yes'. This will happen several hundred times until I finally walk over to glance at the paper in front of him. At this, he will jump around like an injured game fowl and say, "I'm working on it - I'm working on it!!!" I will deftly snatch the paper from the table and note that it is blank. "George, you've done nothing so far..." Reply: "Well of course I haven't, MOM! I don't have a pencil!"

Sigh. It hasn't even happened yet and I already want to rip my hair out.

Hark! I hear footsteps on the stairs! (read: very loud rumbling - as if a herd of wildebeasts is migrating through our second floor) Wait.. false alarm. The footsteps have subsided. My MOM senses tell me George is close... but he has not made it to the kitchen yet.

I have to wonder now. Why does this happen every year at this time? I'm inclined to believe it has something to do with seasonal allergies. Has anyone heard of seasonal ADD? He's had an exemplary school year thus far... Better than any other with all A's and 'outstanding' marks in behavior and effort. He was waking up for school on his own in the mornings and coming to surprise me before I had gotten out of bed - dressed in his uniform and ready to go... It was a dream come true.

But with the first flush of spring last month - it all came crashing down.

3:48 pm and he has arrived in the kitchen. His shirt is on backwards and he has no shoes or socks -- but that's good enough for me.

"It's time for homework, George."
"I have no where to sit and do it."
"There's a table and chairs. Do your homework."
"Okay. Where are my spelling words?"
"On the refrigerator."
"Okay."

He walked toward the refrigerator for a moment... then he twirled in a circle... touched every wall in the kitchen and jumped in place. In the process the mail-order catalog on the counter must have distracted him because he's now standing at the counter reading it. He stopped for a second and started walking toward the refrigerator again - but then he saw a can of root beer and stopped to pick it up -- perhaps to see if he could drink some... Nope. Empty. He's back at the catalog again.

3:54 pm I can't take it anymore and I have to say something. I'll try just saying his name to see if that jogs his memory. "George?" "Yes?" Okay - that didn't work. I'll have to be direct.

"George? Hey.. George. GEORGE!"
"AAAH. What? What?"
"Hey uh.. what about homework?"
"Oh great. GREAT." (starts slamming drawers in the kitchen)
"What are you doing?"
"I need a pencil sharpener."
"Why do you need a pencil sharpener? Do you have a pencil?"
(Holding up a brand-new unsharpened pencil) "I need a pencil sharpener."
"Wait.. where's the pencil you used last night?"
(No answer.)

He has walked over to the table with a sharpened pencil... He is seated with his homework folder open and is rubbing his eyes. He just looked at me and said "Now what?"

I guess that's my cue to go get the spelling words off the refrigerator myself and help the poor kid with his homework.

Wish me luck.