Today Thomas got his report card. Which was a good card; he's a bright kid. But he was unreasonably upset because he was marked as behind in recognizing relationships b/t days and months. Whatever.
But he worked himself up into this frenzy by the time we got to the school parking lot, tears and self-recrimination and I was freaking out, thinking, Jesus, this kid's gonna end up in a clock tower, and it was late and cold and I was tired.
And so I start joking. Badly. lol. "Oh, my GOD, Thomas, are you going to be this emo when you're a teenager? Am I gonna have to hide all the sharp things and stop you from cutting yourself and try to prevent you from painting your ROOM black while you shlump around the house and mutter 'Everybody sucks'?"
And he stops. And laughs. And then we spend the entire ride home discussing what would be better for cutting -- razor blades or a pirate sword?
I am seriously screwing up this kid. But at least the process is sort of entertaining.
