Rent

For some reason Ethan finds joy in inflicting emotional torture on me. The little stinker knows perfectly well he's doing it - despite the glint in his eyes and the huge smile on his face - knowing my insides will twist and turn and my heart will begin to flatline at the mere mention of the inevitable: that he will grow up and leave me.

This morning he added another notch to his record book:
Ethan: Mom, what are you gonna do when I move out?
Me: Cry
Ethan: You know I'm going to grow up, move out and go to college.
Me: No. You're not. You're going to live at home forever so I can tuck you into bed every night.
Ethan: But I have to go to college! What if I move far away? Then what are you gonna do?
Me: If you leave me then I will move in with you!
Ethan: Hmmm, that's weird...alright, then I would charge you rent.

Deal! His intended emotional anguish actually turned into a personal financial benefit. Well played my son! Well played! I'd like to think that we are teaching our children fiscal responsibility and this is a perfect example of him honing in our lessons. So, mom doesn't want me to leave...but, if I do, she'll come with me to cook, clean, do my laundry, (chase the girls away), and, since she'll be living with me then I should charge her rent, it's only fair since I'd be doing her a favor by letting her come with me so she won't have a heart attack...yeah, that sounds right...a little reverse psychology never hurts.

I know how his mind works, boy, do I know. Creative points all around. And until that horrible, no-good, very bad day comes when his bags are packed by the door and he's standing there with the I-told-you-so smile on his face...I will enjoy every single moment. The days are long but the years are short. So very, very short.

Bring it on, dude!