Growing Up
My mother likes showing up at my apartment and rearranging my stuff to her liking:
20 year old me: *hides all 'forbidden material*
25 year old me: HOW DARE YOU? DON'T YOU TRUST ME? YOU ARE A CONTROLLING NAG!
30 year old me: *chuckles* You have a sickness. I love you. You need therapy.
20 year old me: *hides all 'forbidden material*
25 year old me: HOW DARE YOU? DON'T YOU TRUST ME? YOU ARE A CONTROLLING NAG!
30 year old me: *chuckles* You have a sickness. I love you. You need therapy.