(Yes teenage boys who are fine always cry on their mothers’ shoulders until they leave a snot trail.)

Not, like, that, boychik, you sound like a herd of elephants charging through a music store.

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

A typical weeknight when he was home like this: 1. Sit down and try to do homework. 2. Get interrupted by Jeffrey: “Please play with me!” 3. Ignore brother, try to do homework. 4. Get interrupted by Jeffrey: “Come ON, Steven! I’m BORED!” 5. Beg Jeffrey for five minutes of peace. 6. Get begged for five minutes of play: “Steven, you never, ever play with me—ever!” 7. Move entire homework operations center to different room. 8. Repeat steps #1-7 as directed by small drugged maniac.

I seriously think I could have sat in the middle of the kitchen floor rubbing two sticks together over a pile of dynamite blocks and gasoline cans, and my parents would be oblivious, as long as I was keeping myself occupied.

Instead of agonizing about the things you can't change, why don't you try working on the things you can change

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