Thirteen years ago I was holding my first son, just after he was born in the early morning. (Maybe that's why he just up at five in the morning to play Video games while the rest of the house sleeps.) I swore I was going to do everything right. I coached his soccer team, spent time as his cub scout troop leader, went to all his music concerts, tried to stear all the boy kids away from him at school and even spent my time talking to all his teachers. He was such a happy two year-old and now his just like a grumpy Oscar the grouch. He hates evrything I did for him. I only dropped him on his head twice (three times tops). So now he is a teenager, and I don't know what to do with him. Sometime I wish I could just erase the last 12 years and start over. Everything I seem to be doing was seemed right at the time, but it just did work out. I suppose being the first kid is always rough becuase your parent how know idea what their are doing. I tried to be firm but fair. I don't think his see that. I swear he must think I'm picking on him when I tell him to sweep the floor or clean the bathroom.

He does well in school, but he says he does want to go to college. I spend most of my time theses day shaking my head, when I think of him. I want him to be happy, not so moody, sit up striaght, eat his veggies, get some exercise, make some friends, and not turn into some serial killer. Whew!

Happy Birthday.

Tonight we are taking him to his favorite chinese buffet, and he is getting a GameboySP and a couple of games.