So as you all know, I have reported with much bogglement Emmett's growth over the last year as he is now 5'9", 180 lbs and very strong. And also he's a lummox and a 15 y.o. boy with bounding energy and a deep-rooted need to roughhouse.
Last week Emmett wanted to demonstrate how long his fingernails were so he took a swipe at me - you know, like a cat - and gouged me so badly I had two deep, bleeding scratches in my forearm. You know - like a cat scratch.
Then he stood there in a state of genuine apology, teen snickering and amazement. Dumbass!
Much lecturing on him being more careful, and more conscious of his body size and strength. Also, cut your nails.
The biggest issue is he just has not processed his body size weight and strength. So he goes to tickle Matilda and accidentally jabs her in the armpit and she cries. He stumbles over things, bumbles into walls and takes up all the space when he stretches out.
Then yesterday, he heedlessly leaned on a corner of the kitchen where the tiles were loose and knocked a huge chunk of them down. He wasn't running around. People lean on walls. The plaster was old. Still, it's like that. Mindless directionless energy and way too much throw-weight.
So, today, he comes at me like boy-zombie mumbling, "I wanna hug." Which means in Emmett-ese, "I'm going to throw a bear hug on you and grapple with you, even though you're obviously in the kitchen trying to make lunch."
So I'm fending him off and he lurches me into the wall and I cut my forearm again where it was previously scratched on the jagged plaster from where he knocked down the tile!
Then, as I'm telling him to "Stop Doing Things!" he pokes at the gash in the tile and brings down a new rain of broken plaster.
His comment after I berated him and ordered him to sit on the couch and do nothing more active than breathing?
"Hulk sad."