The Emo Years Begin

This morning, dear husband set up Little Bit on the Xbox arcade games to play for a little while. So, I left her to play in the care of her older brother while running the middle one to school.

I get a phone call from big brother (Pickle) on my drive back that went something like this:

Pickle: Mom, did you tell Little Bit that she could play games while you're gone?
AoM: Yes.
Pickle: *deep sigh* Well, I usually get dressed in your room (it's my office/living area where the games are strategically located for better control).
AoM: Yeah, well, go get dressed in the front room.
Pickle: *deep sigh* *click*
AoM: *fuming* *thinking NO he didn't just hang up on me and frantically missing numbers while trying to dial him back only to keep misdialing when the phone rings*
Pickle: Sorry.
AoM: Don't you EVER hang up on me again or that phone is history!
Pickle: It was an accident! *famous last words from this child WHENEVER he has flubbed up royally by making a bad choice*
AoM: Yeah, right, an accident. DO.NOT.LET.IT.HAPPEN.AGAIN.

Yes, the emo years have started. Lucky me.

*according to Wikipedia the emo stereotype "includes being emotional, sensitive, shy, introverted, or angsty." Yeah, that about sums it up. I'm so hosed. He'd have the whole bad hair thing going, too, if I let him. *sigh* Reminds me a bit of my Cure, Morrissey, Smiths phase in college when I wore all black for about a semester. Geesus, we're in trouble.