In 20 years, before my children are married, and before they have children, I am going to stay at their home or apartment.
I plan on making an absolute mess during the last day of my visit. I’m going to leave bananas out on a table, toilet paper all over in the bathroom, socks stuffed behind the toilet, their shoes hidden in random places, and to whine about my dinner regardless if I chose the dish. After dinner I plan on complaining about finishing a Sudoko puzzle, by falling out on the floor and crying, just as one child sometimes does during homework time.
I plan on waking my youngest child up at 5 A.M. to ask, “Where is my other sock? My toes are cold!” But only after waking her up two hours before hand to say, “I’m thhhhirrrrrrrsty!”
In my mind in 20 years, I plan on making an memorable visit. Just once. When I make this comical visit, I hope they remember all the times I picked up their belongings, found my shoes in mysterious places, and how I loved them without fail throughout all of these trying times of parenthood.