Call your mother.

My (almost daily) conversation with my mom today went something like this:

Me:  "So on Friday, the Larger Hooligan was all ebullient and pleased because he found out he's getting and A in Geometry, and naturally we were pleased too."

Bad Grandma:  "Well you should be pleased!  that is very good!  He is quite bright you know." (My mother was convinced the Larger Hooligan could read when he was three.  She dotes with great enthusiasm. It is endearing.)

Me:  "Well yes, but he works so hard at acting like a doofus that I forget.  And by Sunday he started mentioning that his grade in Science might not be so great, but he was going to turn all the missing work in, the teacher accepted late work, etc etc.  So I'm trying not to get pissed at him but I'm all stressed out again and then TODAY (Monday) I get a text:  Hey Mom!  A- in Science!

B.G.:  Well that's wonderful!  What was he talking about?  Did he think he'd bombed a test or something?

Me:  I think he is just trying to kill me.

At this point in the conversation my mother could no longer contain herself:  "That is exactly how we felt when we got the letter saying that you, with your 2.4 GPA, were a National Honor Society Scholar because of your SAT scores!  YOU! A SCHOLAR!  Hahahahaa"

Me:  "I know, and I am only sharing this with you because I know it will give you great pleasure, Mom.  It is my gift to you."