This was the first year we let our son stay home alone over the holidays. He had turned 18 in February – so a grown up adult in the eyes of the law - and he no longer wanted to go on vacation with us.
We argued long and hard whether to let him stay, but since he had a girlfriend, we figured he wouldn’t be bored and they could finally get some alone time together.
We were gone for 10 days – 10 glorious days at the beach with no one nagging and complaining at all times.
On our way back we couldn’t shut up about how great the vacation was and how rested we felt compared to last years’ vacations. These 10 days truly were a god sent gift – we even got to eat the food we wanted. Brock was very picky with his food – sometimes he wouldn’t eat anything orange, then the next day nothing green tasted good – and we always had to adjust our meals.
It wasn’t until we were at the front door that we both questioned ourselves about how he was doing these past 10 days.
He unlocked the door for us, we hugged, and we were all happy to see each other.
Everything was fine until we opened the door to the living room and kitchen.
Words cannot describe the tower of dirty dishes he had piled up.
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