ADULT SON

Happy birthday to the fully grown man I raised, fed, clothed and kept alive, only for you to become somebody who ignores my messages but rings immediately when you need money, a lift or instructions for using the washing machine. You insist you’re an independent adult, despite still treating our fridge like a free members’ club and this house like a storage unit with central heating. I spent years teaching you to walk, talk and use a toilet. You now repay me by correcting my pronunciation, criticising my driving and explaining technology I paid for. Still, beneath the confidence, selective memory and suspicious inability to change a duvet cover, you’ve become a brilliant man. Mostly because of me, obviously. Love you, son x