Flashes of grown children not leaving the nest flashed before my eyes. The palpitations started…
Shortness of breath….
“No you’re not!” I replied, firmly.
“Yes, I am,” she answered calmly. “I am going to be the mommy and I will have my own babies here.”
Confused, I asked, “Where am I living, then? Here?”
“Oh, no mommy. You will have a special apartment somewhere. You’ll live there.” Another sweet smile as she danced off to play with her dolls.
I guess * special apartments* are what they are calling nursing homes now, huh?
One of the things about focusing on your career first and having kids so much later in life than everyone you grew up with is that you find yourself extra sensitive to this sort of thing…. I will probably be using a walker at their high school graduation as it is.
I think I am doomed.
She already has plans for taking over my clinic. I guess my home was a natural next step.