I'm torn...

So yesterday Theo got in trouble for writing his name in permanent marker on the freshly painted bathroom walls at his school. In 8 inch lettering. My first reaction was to be really crushed under the weight of parenthood. But after soaking in that for a little while, I managed to step back and think about it more rationally. I mean, he's only 5, right? He was probably really pleased with himself for writing his name so well, in such huge letters, right?

After thinking about it for a while, I find myself torn between the urge to punish him for his egregious misstep and to give him a high five and singing out "Up the establishment! You go, my comrade!". Of course, we ended up having serious discussions about the right and wrong of it, during which he performed the ritual and expected contortions of contrition and understanding until we freed him up to go commit more mischief. I think the most important lesson I've managed to teach this boy is lesson #23 entitled "How to say the right things to a parent." coupled with lesson #54 which is "How to convince Mom and Dad that you completely understand whatever nonsense they're blathering about currently." This last lesson is actually an important corollary to lesson #3 which is "How to get back to doing things you want to do when parents want to talk."

He's really come a long way in the last few years. Soon he'll completely pass me by and will be adept at making me think I'm in charge. Then I'll mellow out, start to get shorter, lose some hair and eventually end up drooling in an old folks home where he'll come to visit me weekly, wipe that drool off my chin and tell me not to scribble THEO on the bathroom walls in 8 inch letters.