There are really no guidelines whatsoever, because this is the kind of thing that only happens to ME.

You look like a handsome young man…although you might want to zip your fly. Mom! What? Should I have not told you and left it for everyone else to notice at the dance?

I dove on those papers like Sherlock Holmes on a cappuccino binge.

If you promise you will get better instead of dying, I promise I will, too.

And if there was one thing I'd finally figured out, it was that your mind is something you always CAN change.

Did you really JUST fall, Jeffrey? Why does everybody in my family talk in these dramatic CAPITAL LETTERS all the time? Why am I the only calm one?

Finally the kitchen clock said 5:17. It was time to roll out. I shouted for my mom, woke Jeffrey up, ran upstairs, changed into my concert clothes, put on my shoes, and was standing by the door to the garage by 5:19—chanting “Let’s go! Come on!” (Feel free to try that at home, by the way; moms love it!)