"I'm going to move there, Mommy" my son tells me. "Then I'll live right across the street from you!"
"I'm sure your wife will loooooove that..." I joke.
He often assures me that he'll never leave, that he'll just be right across the street so that he can have breakfast here. And maybe even dinner.
"We can watch Transformers together!!" he says, excitedly. "And then you can still tuck me in at night."
I don't have the heart to tell him that I won't be doing that for too much longer. Soon enough he'll be tucking himself in. And then someone else will get that job.
He used to beg me to lay with him at bedtime. And he still does. Sometimes. Except now, after a few minutes, he says "You can leave now, Mom."
I know I'm supposed to raise him up and send him out into the world, where I see him on holidays, special occasions, or when he asks me over to babysit the grandchildren. When we talk through texts and passing phone calls, perhaps an email every few days.
One day, I'll turn around and he won't be sleeping in the back seat.
But maybe his kids will.
Thus is life.
Happy Belated Birthday, my Drew. My heart.