Mom, I'm Not Really That Bad

So... this must be written about. I'm a little slow this week, the week has gone by me too fast, partially a product of total non-productivity last weekend; I didn't make the slightest dent in my ever-growing list. Friday night... the boy wonder is off and running with his buddies as usual. Supposed to call by 9:30 or so. Calls at 10:15 says they are at the ocean walk at the movies. I say ok, dome right home after the movie. I thought they were just starting so I figured 12:30 or 1 a.m. I later learned that he had come out in the midde to call when he realized the time. But I digress. I went to bed. Dad came to bed at 2, I asked if the boy wonder was home. No, he growled. I got up, turned the porch light back on and proceeded to stay up most of the rest of the night. The good news is I pretty much knew where he was and proceeded there at the crack of dawn to drag his skinny butt home. All the parents know how the night was, long and agonizing. He is generally a very good kid and does very little to complain about. What is amusing about all this is that in discussing the consequences, first he just cried and sulked. Then he said "well, if I was kidnapped or dead you still wouldn't have known where I was and you wouldn't have grounded me; after all, all I did was fall asleep." (I'm thinking this is my fault; the son of a lawyer, what did I expect?) When that didn't fly he came back with "I agree that there should be consequences, it is fair, but I want to impose them on myself, I don't want you to do it." So I am left trying to decide whether he has a finely tuned sense of justice or....I don't know. He just keeps saying "mom, I'm not really that bad. I could be using drugs, running the streets, flunking school." The real problem is, he's right.