“Mommy, I do not WANT TO LIVE WITH MY FAMILY ANY MORE!”
Where are you going to go? We sure will miss you. What if we build you an apartment in the back yard?
“No, I’m going over there to Spencer’s old house!” (Points out the window next door to our neighbor’s, who moved this summer. Spencer was their rat terrier who sometimes drove me nuts with his nighttime begging at our front door.)
Who’s going to make you cinnamon toast for breakfast and fix your school lunches and read to you at bedtime?
“Well. I’m going to live over there by myself and you can bring me my breakfast every day through the bushes!” (Arms crossed, lower lip stuck out in super pout mode.)
I find it disturbing that my 5-year-old has told me, albeit in a huff of anger, that she wants to move out. I mean I don’t know where on Earth she gets her moodiness.
Wait a minute, isn’t there an Andy Griffith run away episode?
Oh yes, thank you Master Google. That makes me feel like much less of a horrible mother. I mean if Opie wanted to pack it up, it must be a rite of passage.