Start the fire...

Middle school is not for weenies. Soooo, I might be a weenie. I'm not dissing myself, I'm just saying what's on everyone's mind! Ha ha ha!

Okay. The smell. Let's talk about The Smell.

No. Let's not.

Let's start with the hair. Mmm. Safer, I think.

But, still. Not quite there yet.
*****************************

Dinner conversation.

boy: "Why do girls travel in packs?"

dad: "Safety in numbers."

younger (and not troubled by thoughts of girls) brother: "Oh gawwwd, not more girls!"

mom and dad snicker

boy: "You're in fifth grade. That's the sweet spot. Girls are primed in fifth grade."

mom: "I'm sorry, primed?"

boy: "You should just get like, five girls to like you now. And you'll be set for middle school. In fifth grade, the girls love the boys."

mom: "Ahhh yes, and the boys were clueless!"

boy, feeling the weight of wasted years: "Exactly!"

younger brother gets up from the table, walks directly to the bathroom. We hear violent vomiting noises.

younger brother walks casually back to the table, sits down and continues eating his meal.

mom and dad (and boy) suffer delayed hysterics.