As a parent, you may think that once your child reaches their twenties, the turbulent teenage years are behind you. But sometimes, a storm can brew right under your nose.
This is what happened to me with my son, Michael. He had just turned 22 last month, and I thought we were past the challenging times. Little did I know, a new set of difficulties were about to arise.
One day, while I was preparing lunch in the kitchen, Michael stormed in with a frustrated expression on his face. His tone was serious, and he said, “Mom, we need to talk.” I turned to him and replied, “Sure, what’s on your mind, honey?”
Leaning against the counter, arms folded, he uttered the words that caught me off guard, “I need a car.” I paused, unsure of how to respond. “A car? What happened to your part-time job? Weren’t you saving up for one?”
With an exasperated sigh, Michael explained that saving up was taking too long and he needed a car immediately. I frowned, wiping my hands on the kitchen towel. “Cars are expensive, Michael. You know that. Besides, you have a job. You can save a bit more and—”
Impatiently, he cut me off, “No, Mom, I can’t wait anymore. All my friends have cars, and I’m tired of depending on you or taking the bus. I need my freedom.”
Feeling frustrated, I explained to Michael that buying a car out of the blue was not that simple. But then, he dropped a bombshell, “Well, maybe I’ll go live with Dad then. He’ll buy me a car.”
Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. My ex-husband, David, always tried to buy Michael’s affection instead of being a responsible parent. I couldn’t believe that Michael would suggest such a thing.
I tried to keep my voice calm as I responded to his threat, “Michael, you can’t just threaten to leave because you’re not getting what you want.” He defiantly replied, “Why not? Dad would be happy to have me. He always spoils me.”
Taking a deep breath, I gathered my thoughts and explained, “This isn’t about your dad. It’s about responsibility. You’re an adult now, and part of being an adult is making responsible decisions.”
But Michael rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, responsible decisions like being the only one among my friends without a car.”
Our conversation ended there, but the tension lingered in the air. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed and worried about the path Michael was heading towards.