Yes, son. I guess you have to learn cursive.

My eight-year-old sits, painfully crafting every letter of every word. Cursive. Three pages of it.

He looks up, I smile.

"Now you know why I always type. My handwriting is terrible," I tell him, trying not to laugh at his plight.

"I would type it, Dad, but we don't have cursive on our computer."

He continues, "Why do I have to learn cursive anyway, Dad?"

"Why, back in my day," I explain in my best Grandpa imitation, "we practiced cursive until our fingers were bleedin'. And we liked it!"

I laughed.

He didn't.

And now I don't blame him. Because it's four hours later, and I still can't figure out why he will ever need cursive. Ugh.

I'm no longer laughing.

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