My son and I have a love hate relationship best described as troubled. Last Winter he tried to kill me with a knife. When he used to live at home one of my daily chores included gathering up all newspaper clippings from children's clothing circulators found in the Sunday Post. The thought of the neighbors seeing a centerfold of a toddler wearing dinosaur underwear would've ruined my image in the community. I'd never play guitar with the church band on Saturdays evenings ever again. Often I think of the money I wasted on this 33 year old man child. I wanted to take the wife to see Barry Manilow in Atlantic City for a romantic weekend but, no, my son had a meltdown and we were stuck babysitting the entire weekend while he hid under the covers. I'd like to read my Sunday Newspaper with an expresso and peace of mind knowing that my son won't be looking through Toys R Us catalogues. Reluctantly, and against my will, I drove my Kia over to his apartment. Damn Kia is almost on it's 110,000 mile mark. The thoughts of that new car smell is like a child in a candy store. Only in my case, the child can only browse. I walk up to the second floor and notice that he purchased a brand new "No Trespassing Sign," for his front door. Most of the neighbors chose a more subtle flower arrangement for their front doors. I knock 3 times when the door quickly cracks open demanding identification. I answer "son it's your father I thought..." just as quickly the door slams shut. A minute later he rushes me into his apartment and the smell of full liter boxes, old milk, and paint cans pierce my nostrils. My son tells me "sorry, I'm constantly under surveillance. They're watching me, dad, they're after me!" No sooner he gives me a giant bear hug. I half expect a sharp blade to penetrate my back and am relieved when he lets go and I'm unharmed. It's tradition for the son to invite the father to an outing on Father's Day however my wife forced me to do this so I invite him to Golden Corral to talk things over. My son puts on a fedora and a handkerchief to cover his face walking to my car. On the way I can't help notice that when we pass a Toys R Us, Chuckee Cheese, or Babies R Us, he turns his head almost like a dog. At Golden Corral he throws a temper tantrum when the waitress informs us that the chocolate fountain is turned off today. I reassure him that I'll buy him ice cream after lunch. In the buffet line, instead of grabbing a couple of items my son takes the whole tub of mac and cheese back to the table. We talked things over as we ate. I made the mistake of asking him if he was seeing a special lady but quickly changed the topic before he could even answer with whoever he met at Chuckee Cheese or on the playground. I bring up the stabbing incident and for the first time in my life I feel that my son accepted responsibility for his actions by apologizing. For that simple moment I was proud to be his father but, no sooner, was let down when he asked if we could go see Finding Dory after lunch. I dropped him off, jumped back into my car, and, just like my son did, turned my head passing signs for Dulles Airport. I think to myself "I wonder what the real estate market in Cozumel is like around this time of the year?"

Leroy Moreno Wrote:
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> My son and I have a love hate relationship best
> described as troubled. Last Winter he tried to
> kill me with a knife. When he used to live at
> home one of my daily chores included gathering up
> all newspaper clippings from children's clothing
> circulators found in the Sunday Post. The thought
> of the neighbors seeing a centerfold of a toddler
> wearing dinosaur underwear would've ruined my
> image in the community. I'd never play guitar
> with the church band on Saturdays evenings ever
> again. Often I think of the money I wasted on
> this 33 year old man child. I wanted to take the
> wife to see Barry Manilow in Atlantic City for a
> romantic weekend but, no, my son had a meltdown
> and we were stuck babysitting the entire weekend
> while he hid under the covers. I'd like to read
> my Sunday Newspaper with an expresso and peace of
> mind knowing that my son won't be looking through
> Toys R Us catalogues. Reluctantly, and against my
> will, I drove my Kia over to his apartment. Damn
> Kia is almost on it's 110,000 mile mark. The
> thoughts of that new car smell is like a child in
> a candy store. Only in my case, the child can
> only browse. I walk up to the second floor and
> notice that he purchased a brand new "No
> Trespassing Sign," for his front door. Most of
> the neighbors chose a more subtle flower
> arrangement for their front doors. I knock 3
> times when the door quickly cracks open demanding
> identification. I answer "son it's your father I
> thought..." just as quickly the door slams shut.
> A minute later he rushes me into his apartment and
> the smell of full liter boxes, old milk, and paint
> cans pierce my nostrils. My son tells me "sorry,
> I'm constantly under surveillance. They're
> watching me, dad, they're after me!" No sooner he
> gives me a giant bear hug. I half expect a sharp
> blade to penetrate my back and am relieved when he
> lets go and I'm unharmed. It's tradition for the
> son to invite the father to an outing on Father's
> Day however my wife forced me to do this so I
> invite him to Golden Corral to talk things over.
> My son puts on a fedora and a handkerchief to
> cover his face walking to my car. On the way I
> can't help notice that when we pass a Toys R Us,
> Chuckee Cheese, or Babies R Us, he turns his head
> almost like a dog. At Golden Corral he throws a
> temper tantrum when the waitress informs us that
> the chocolate fountain is turned off today. I
> reassure him that I'll buy him ice cream after
> lunch. In the buffet line, instead of grabbing a
> couple of items my son takes the whole tub of mac
> and cheese back to the table. We talked things
> over as we ate. I made the mistake of asking him
> if he was seeing a special lady but quickly
> changed the topic before he could even answer with
> whoever he met at Chuckee Cheese or on the
> playground. I bring up the stabbing incident and
> for the first time in my life I feel that my son
> accepted responsibility for his actions by
> apologizing. For that simple moment I was proud
> to be his father but, no sooner, was let down when
> he asked if we could go see Finding Dory after
> lunch. I dropped him off, jumped back into my
> car, and, just like my son did, turned my head
> passing signs for Dulles Airport. I think to
> myself "I wonder what the real estate market in
> Cozumel is like around this time of the year?"


Tl;dr

Sad part is that I could totally see this happening

I'd never read this one...