My youngest, who normally we get along famously, became a PITA his Senior year in high school. He turned 18 in February and informed me that he no longer needed my signature on his report card, or anything according to the school, that he was now responsible for himself.
Alriiiiiighty. So does this mean that you are going to start paying rent, and gonna start contributing to the payment of utitlities and a portion of the HUGE food bill? THE ANSWER: uh, well, uh, no? So does this mean that now you will pay your cell phone bill on time to me? Since it IS on MY bill? Or the car insurance? Since it IS on MY bill? Oh, so you don't have to tell me if you are going to be late? WHAT? You're upset because the keyless deadbolt is turned. hmmm. not my problem. Sooo and on the list goes.
We got it straightened out. It was called R E S P E C T. I will respect you if you respect me. It is a two way street. I am a PRO. I have 30 YEARS on you, you little PUNK. WATCH ME. He tried me, he saw stars. He got the message and all was good.
Yep, a PITA. And you can bet your bottom dollar that when he moved out, I was so happy. Oh yeah, oh yeah. I did the happy dance. Uh Huh!! Yeah, right. I bawled like a big ole titty baby. AND he had moved soooo far away. ACROSS TOWN. 20 miles. Ditz.
Anyway, that was 5 years ago, and he is back. Of course, he is back to help me out. Guys just don't move home on their own. They come back to help out their poor, decrepit, ancient, blurry visioned, arthritic, overweight, can barely get around, mom, who can still sucker punch him in the jaw if he doesn't act right.
Hope you kackled today.