I love my kids. I cherish every minute I have with them.

And I want them out my house.

You see, as much as I’m tempted to lose all sense of my own life and re-fashion the frayed and tattered thing that my wife and I call a social life around my boys, I’m too selfish. I like my time with myself, I like my time with my wife, and I don’t get enough of either. So I’m looking forward to having an empty nest. Some parents can’t handle the empty nest. I know that my parents realized that 30 years of their marriage was spent raising kids. Thirty years. Now they have to find some hobbies. Either that, or talk to each other (and Lord knows married people run out of stuff to talk about after their first five years. That’s why they have kids in the first place). As to the problem at hand, I am torn about which date to go with:

Number of days til Malcolm (my youngest, the one that’s less than happy about having his picture taken) is 18: 5114.

Number of days til Malcolm is shipped off to college: 5145.

It’s never too soon to be prepared. This reminds me of a sign that I saw at my Barber Shop:

Tired of Being
Harassed by your
Stupid Parents?

Move Out,
Get a Job,

Pay Your OWN Bills,

While You Still

Know Everything!

For the record, this has nothing to do with the fact that my wife and I just bought locks for our bedroom door due to the frequency of unannounced night time visitors.