On the way to school yesterday…
Youngest Son: Mom, how old are you?
Me: I’m 44.
YS: So you’re almost 50. That means you’re halfway there.
Me: Halfway to what?
YS: Halfway to 100 years old.
Me: You think I will live to be 100?
YS: No. You’ll probably live to be around 91 or 92 or something like that.
Me: Well that’s still pretty old. Are you going to take care of me in my old age?
Me: No? You won’t take care of me?
YS: Mom. I’m going to be busy doing my own thing.
Me: Oh really? You know, you’ll be in your 60’s by then. You think you’re going to be too busy to take care of your dear old mom?
YS: (Sighing. Exasperated.) Yes, Mom. I’ll be busy doing my own thing.
Me: Okay… I’ll remember that.
Long pause and the car gets quiet as my emotions vacillate between wanting to crack up and being scared for my future. The conversation resumes…
YS: Mom, can we sell those games I want to get rid of on eBay tonight? Please? Will you help me?
Me: Sorry. I’ll be too busy doing my own thing.
YS: Fine, Mom. I’ll take care of you when you’re old. (This kid can change his mind/attitude/emotions on a dime!)
Me: Oh! (Laughing.) Now you change your tune!
YS: Well…yeah…I mean only a horrible son wouldn’t take care of his mom when she’s really old.
Me: Yes, a horrible son indeed. Well. (Arriving at the school.) Well, have a good day. Go do your own thing.
YS: Really, Mom?
Yes, REALLY! I see how it’s going to be. Depending on how valuable I am at the time, my precious Youngest Son will decide whether or not he has time to take care of me in my really old age. Thank goodness I have another child who might not be as busy (insert eye roll here) and maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll have a couple of daughters-in-law that like me enough to put me in a nice home. Total. Crapshoot.
Go ahead and start praying for me now.