I took this picture of Hope and Glen (my two youngest) in 2005 -- the year my parents moved out of the house I grew up in -- and, already, my son was very protective of his baby sister.

"I don't want her to fall in da wah-der!"

Didn't matter that my father's koi pond was only about ankle-deep; in true Thompson fashion, my son is a born worrier (he gets that from his father) and, well, his concern for the physical and emotional well-being of everyone around him was sort of, you know, cute.

Last night, however, turned chronic.

"I can't make ANYONE happy."

5 years have passed (I know, wasn't it just yesterday I was blogging about his peeing on a tree?) and, although the stories are pretty much the same (only, with less pee) I find myself feeling as if we BOTH haven't learned a gosh-darned thing.

"I don't understand?"

You see, my 11 year-old son is entering middle school next year and long story short (you're welcome!) let's just say the boy is feeling a little stressed.

"My teacher, you and dad, are ALL pushing me!"

Okay, A LOT STRESSED.

"To do what?"

Seriously, the kid was blowing snot and -- although, my husband and I had already had a talk with his teacher and discussed her concerns over his penchant for day dreaming -- he's been carrying and A/B average and I was at a loss as to why he was SO upset.

"I'm going to fail."

Oh. I know this one.  In fact, 5 years ago, during my middle girl's parent-teacher conference, I was the ONLY parent to cheer when her 3rd grade teacher told me that she had failed her 1st math test.

"It's about time the kid learns to fail, something!"

Her teacher agreed, btw.

"All your father and I care about is that you do your best."

Apparently, my son's teacher feels differently.

"She said I was going to get absolutely lost in Middle School!"

Look, I get it.  I couldn't do what she does -- teach, someone else's kid, I mean -- however, I know my son and -- although, I think, having our kids attend K-3, switch to another school for grades 4 and 5, and then again to the middle school, our school system hasn't helped to make it ANY easier -- this time, I believe the change will do him good.

"I think you're going to be just fine."

For the next 3 years, anyway.

"Just ask Holly and Heather!"

My 2 oldest daughters have already given him a run down of all the cool teachers and the, you know, not so cool teachers he'll probably get...in middle school.

"What are you doing, Hope?"

My youngest daughter (she's 8) ran out of the room to grab a pen and piece of paper.

"I want to write a letter to the principal of my new school..."

She's graduating 3rd grade next month and is changing schools, too, OY!

"...and I want to tell her that I want Holly's and Heather's teachers, ONLY!"

If ONLY life was that easy, right?

"Don't worry, Hopey, I already told her AND the nurse that my youngest sister is coming!"

You see, some things NEVER change AND my son happens to know that his baby sister is a frequent flyer!

"The nurse's office has got PLENTY of band aids!"

Hope, however, rolls like her mother.