After more than twenty years of feeding a person on a regular basis, you would think that his arrival for yet another meal would be no big deal. You would be wrong. Today, my son is coming over for dinner. It's not a holiday and it's no one's birthday and he's coming for dinner. Okay, I did entice him by dangling the promise of one of his favorite meals. I know he loves us but it never hurts to sweeten the pot.
Still, it's weird hosting your kid when a couple of months ago he was helping himself to anything you were silly enough to leave in the fridge. Oh, wait, he still does that. But it does feel strange to see him on the other side of the door, standing there with dessert in his hands. Don't get me wrong. It's nice. But it's weird.
I'm sure I'll get used to this new phase of our relationship. I've already accepted the fact that he's gone (although he did camp out on our couch this week for one night). I know I'll eventually clean out his room and turn it into something else. Exercise room, anyone? But, right now, I'm not there yet. It's still just a little weird.
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