I returned from running errands to find THIS in mother's kitchen:

He said if a boy can't have a taco, cookies will have to do.

I told him I didn't think so and tried to grab him. He ran into his room. Wielding a belt like a Samurai warrior, he emerged yelling:

I said no thanks, gave his rash a taste of that leather and then threw him in his room. After a bit of time-out he was released, but within minutes he was launching livestock from a catapult, trying to hit the neighbor's dog:

"I don't wanna talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper! I blow my nose at you!"

So it was back to the room for Rashy. He was awful quiet in there, and figuring the excitement had worn him down and he was probably sleeping, I decided to check on him. Good thing I did - the little bastard had won some kind of Yu-Gi-Oh auction on E-bay, and was setting up a Paypal account with my credit card:

"Mom, where's your three-digit credit card security code?"

One more outburst like this, and he's going off to military school. I don't know how much more I can take.

And as soon as i turned my back, he was gabbing on the horn, racking up $500 worth of phone calls 'to his homies'.

"Heeeey - Enrique!  How is China treating you?"