I had a proud moment as a parent yesterday after two of our kids had been in a swim meet.

 
Hanna had asked me over a rushed breakfast in the morning, “Mom, if I try my best today and swim really well, will you type my homework for me?”

 
My first reaction was, “No, I will not do your homework for you. Your homework is your homework.” The end. (I may have said lick it, stick it, stamp it but I’m not proud of it).

 
She asked again, “But you type faster than I can. I’ll do the work and read it to you. I just want you to type my story.”

 
I surprised even myself by agreeing to type her assignment. It wasn’t so much as a wager as it was, I knew she had been working hard at school, that swimming would suck all of the energy she had for the day out of her and as long as I was just doing data entry and none of the thinking, I was willing to help.

 
As expected, the swimming dehydrated us all. The kids were exhausted when we stumbled in the door after inhaling our six egg omelets at a restaurant that boasts, “No omelet will be made with less than a half dozen eggs!” (I don’t know if it says that anywhere but they are really weird about not making an omelet out of two or even three eggs.)

 
Chloe begged to watch the movie “The Lion King”—done.

 
Ellie set to work at the table finishing a story for school.

 
And Hanna did something I just wasn’t expecting.

 
She asked if there was any paper in the printer so she could work on her assignment.

I told her I had agreed to type it for her and that’s exactly what I planned to do.

 
She said, “No thanks Mom. It’s my assignment. It will mean more if I do it myself.”

 
Maybe it was the chlorine talking but I think my work here is done.