When I finally got out of college, my mom called all the kids and told us to get our shit out of her house-we had two months to do so, or she would dispose of it herself. A year later I was home for the holidays and noticed all my stuff from my old room was gone. I stormed downstairs and confronted my mom, who was cooking dinner.
“Where’s all my stuff?”
“I gave you two months warning.”
“But, that was all my stuff!”
“Sure was. Do you want cheese on your burger?”
The thing is, I still have nightmares about Mr. Teddies stuck in a landfill. I can see him being raped by some plastic Godzilla under a blanket of dirty diapers. I’m still guilty all these years later. As a parent, make your kids move out as early as you can. As a child, make sure you take care of your Mr. Teddies. It matters.