When I die, I hope to leave a legacy. I want my clients to feel changed by what they've accomplished in treatment, I want everyone who knew me to remember me and all that I try to stand for, and I want my children to reflect all that I've taught them (or tried to teach them). However, when I die, I found out that my kids just want my stuff and that's pretty much the end of it.
I discovered this fun little fact the other night when Cameron came running upstairs, anxious to share with me the conversation he had just had with my husband.
"Guess what! Dad said that when he dies I can have his tools!" (Cam)
"Uh... ok... how did this conversation start, by the way?" (Me)
"I asked Dad about when I get adopted next week, what does that really mean... I know I get to live here forever, but what else? And he said that it means that when he dies, I get his stuff! So I asked him for his tools... and he said YES!" (Cam)
"Well, that's certainly one way of looking at your adoption. Another is the fact that we will be your family forever... so when it's Christmas time or your birthday, no matter where you live or how old you are, you're going to come back home to celebrate with us. And we will help you find a car, get into college, look for a job, help you when you have questions about raising your kids, or tending to your llama, whichever the case may be." (Me)
"Yeah, ok... but if I get Dad's tools, what are you gonna give me when you die??" (Cam)
"You mean apart from the unconditional love and support you've received?" (Me)
"Yeah." (Cam)
"I guess I'll have to get back to you on that one. It's not like you'll want my shoe collection." (Me)
(Taylor, from the other room) "Can I have your shoes, Mom? Please??"
I'm starting to get nervous that these children may try to off us in our sleep, just to get our shoes and tools. If for some reason I am found lying in my bed with a number 2 pencil sticking out of my eye and a Pretty Pretty Princess necklace noosed around my neck, know that it has been a priveledge sharing my stories with you all... and please give Taylor my shoes.
I discovered this fun little fact the other night when Cameron came running upstairs, anxious to share with me the conversation he had just had with my husband.
"Guess what! Dad said that when he dies I can have his tools!" (Cam)
"Uh... ok... how did this conversation start, by the way?" (Me)
"I asked Dad about when I get adopted next week, what does that really mean... I know I get to live here forever, but what else? And he said that it means that when he dies, I get his stuff! So I asked him for his tools... and he said YES!" (Cam)
"Well, that's certainly one way of looking at your adoption. Another is the fact that we will be your family forever... so when it's Christmas time or your birthday, no matter where you live or how old you are, you're going to come back home to celebrate with us. And we will help you find a car, get into college, look for a job, help you when you have questions about raising your kids, or tending to your llama, whichever the case may be." (Me)
"Yeah, ok... but if I get Dad's tools, what are you gonna give me when you die??" (Cam)
"You mean apart from the unconditional love and support you've received?" (Me)
"Yeah." (Cam)
"I guess I'll have to get back to you on that one. It's not like you'll want my shoe collection." (Me)
(Taylor, from the other room) "Can I have your shoes, Mom? Please??"
I'm starting to get nervous that these children may try to off us in our sleep, just to get our shoes and tools. If for some reason I am found lying in my bed with a number 2 pencil sticking out of my eye and a Pretty Pretty Princess necklace noosed around my neck, know that it has been a priveledge sharing my stories with you all... and please give Taylor my shoes.
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