You are so screwed.

Your dad is in the kitchen helping you with your homework. He's being patient, soft spoken and very clear. He is giving concise instructions, step by step and trying to teach you how to do math problems involving telling time, quarter hours and half hours.

You are about to lose it.

I can hear it in your voice. Every time he says, "Stop. Just focus." after you said "Daddy..." and want him to let you go play a game with your sister. You are not understanding the question, your dad or why we're doing this fifteen minutes before bed time. The frustration level that I always felt when my dad was teaching me and I didn't understand is probably something similar to what's going in there- so I'm in here.

"There are sixty seven in a minute. I mean, there are sixty seconds in a minute."

And now the chanting begins. Somewhere along your dad's education in Louisiana and the Marine Corps, someone drilled material in your dad's head by having him repeat it over and over again getting louder and louder.

"There are sixty minutes in a hour!"

Sounds like so much fun. So I'm in here with Eleanor. Don't get me wrong, I eventually liked math problems, but I think it will be a while until you warm up to them. Just like your mom. Maybe two, three decades...