What Time is it?

For the past two weeks, we've lived without a schedule and for the most part, so have my children.   The resulting free-for-all timelessness of the holidays made returning to reality come Monday, very difficult.   For some, more than others.

My eleven year old son walked through the door.  "I'm Free!"  he shouted as he grabbed a root beer from the refrigerator.

"Do you have any homework to do?"

"Yes..." I saw him physically deflate.  "Then you're not free." 

"I'm not ready to do homework." he explained.  "I need to exercise." 

"That's great.  Put your coat on and take down the trash. It will take five trips so you'll have gone half a mile by the time you finish."

"I just remembered, I do have a lot of math." he volunteered.
"Fine. Get to work then."

Five minutes later, I found him at the TV watching The Animated Adventures of Superman.
"What are you doing?  I thought you said you had homework."

"I needed to put a DVD on for Paul."
"It's on.  Go do your homework."

"Awwww. Do I have to?" 

"Well, you could take down the trash first.  That way, you could get it down the hill while it's still daylight."  

"I'll go do math."

Five minutes later, I found him in a vigorous ping pong gun shooter battle with his older brother.  "Did you finish your homework?"
"Bathroom!"  
I knocked on the bathroom.  "If you don't start your homework, I'll make you do the trash now before you start." 

I pulled out the chair.  Unable to dodge me any longer, he sat and opened his backpack.  I began working on dinner.  Five minutes in, I hear "Mommmm?" 

"Yes?"
"I forgot my math book."  

"I will take you back to school to pick up your book..."
"Thanks Mom! I..."

"After you take down the trash, not before."  

For the record, yes I drove him to get his book, yes he did take down the trash, and yes, he did get his homework done.