Last week, Jonah's teacher assigned a book report. He had to get a bibliography from the school library, fill in a worksheet about the book, and then render the likeness of this hero in styrofoam. She provided detailed description about how we had to secure a styrofoam ball onto a paper towel tube and then make clothes and accessories.
Of course, my space cadet son never came home with the book and completely blew past the deadline. Feeling somewhat guilty that my irresponsibility was being passed onto another generation, I lit a fire under his ass.
I drove around New Jersey for an hour looking for styrofoam balls, because I just don't have those things around the house. I unwound an entire roll of paper towels. I drove Jonah to the public library, because he managed to forget the book again. He wanted a book on Julius Caesar. No Caesar, but three books on the Backstreet Boys. Settled for Daniel Boone.
After dinner, we finally read the book and make the head of Boone.
It looks like an Abu Graib torture victim, doesn't it? It didn't help that when our backs were turned, Ian gouged a few holes in the head with the scissors.