A nice way of saying...

When I started my blog I vowed I'd never ever post photos of my children, under the full realization that people usually don't find pictures of other people's no-neck monsters quite as adorable as the mothers of those no-neck monsters do.

Well, so much for personal integrity. What the hell.

I'm positng a couple photos of my middle son, Parker. He's seven. And he's killing me.

But, just look at him.

Parker is so much like me when I was his age: full of energy (that's a nice way of saying he's completely hyper), sensitive (that's a nice way of saying he's a bit dramatic), and always pushing, pushing, pushing everything to the limit (I suppose that's a nice way of saying he's a little shithead).

But geez, just look at that face...

Last week Parker had his first experience with what the principal called an "alternative learning environment" (which is a nice way of saying he was in "In School Suspension").

Yessirreee, my kid was sent to lockup in the principal's office for an entire day. First grade.

Apparently they don't take kindly to his fondness for throwing rocks on the playground. The kid's got a hell of an arm, what can I say?

What concerns me is not the fact that he threw a few rocks on the playground (he assures me it was all a big misunderstanding), but the fact that the kid is in the freakin' first grade and he's already done hard time. I mean, the kid's got got another eleven years until he graduates! What's next? Water balloons? Cutting class? Passing notes? Kissing behind the dumpster? Oy! Eleven years! He doesn't graduate until 2019!

(Which is a nice way of saying: I'm totally and completely screwed.)