Forecast: Stormy

Ross is fuming. He wanted his summer haircut yesterday but didn't do his homework until after dinner and dragged it out until well past bedtime. He wanted his summer haircut today but spent twenty minutes after hockey practice doing who knows what - certainly not brushing his teeth and getting undressed for a haircut before his shower. When I pointed out the time and said we'd try for his haircut tomorrow, Ross lost it. NOBODY LOVES HIM.

He carried on like a spitting cat all through his too-long shower and had worked himself up into quite a state by the time he'd managed to don pajamas and get in bed. Ross burrowed completely under his comforter and commanded that I go away, so I kiss Lars goodnight and turn off the light. Then, I sat on the top stair to listen. Do all moms do this?

A shout from the upper bunk, "Nobody loves me! I don't care about my favorite food! Or my favorite candy! Or anything!"

"I love you," a steady voice from the lower bunk offers.

"No, you don't!"

"Mama loves you," the small voice of reason puts in.

"No, she doesn't!"

"Daddy loves you," again from below.

"I DON'T CARE! ABOUT ANYTHING!"

"What about Beary?" Lars inquires after Ross' doll, who's been carefully cared for since Ross chose him for his sixth birthday.

"What ABOUT Beary?"

"Do you care about Beary?" Lars wants to know.

"Of course I care about Beary! Beary is the ONLY ONE who loves me! Beary and the guys in my bed!" (Beardog, the red-eyed tree frog, and nine Webkinz sigh with relief).

"I love you," puts in Lars, again.

"You need to GET A LIFE," spouts Ross. "Here's $15 to buy a life," he begins and follows with quite a diatribe of words I can't believe he's picked up at elementary school (thankfully, while mean, all are PG).

As Ross goes on, I sneak into their room and crouch by the lower bunk, feeling for Lars' hand. As I squeeze it in mine, Lars whispers, "Why are you here?" I squeeze his hand again. He squeezes back and we listen to the diatribe above. I feel powerless to stop the pre-teen angst cloud forming above him but hope that a secret Mama-shield will be strong enough to deflect the worst of it.