When my mother-in-law found out we were moving into a luxury house, she decided to move in with us without asking permission. She sold her house, arrived with everything, and called me in a panic: “Where’s the entrance?” I just smiled, because everything had gone exactly as planned.

“Because that house is not where we live, Monica,” Silas said with a calmness that left her completely speechless for several seconds.

Those few seconds of silence were absolutely glorious before the inevitable explosion of her temper erupted through the phone.

“Do not give me that nonsense! I sold my entire life and all my furniture is sitting right here in a truck!” she shrieked.

“The security guard is telling me this place is only for short-term renters, so what kind of ridiculous game is this?” she demanded.

I could picture her perfectly standing in the heat with her hair a mess and her hand on her hip as she tried to force us into submission. She had spent her whole life confusing the authority of being a mother with the right to own her son’s existence.

“It is not a game, Monica, because you simply assumed something that absolutely no one ever promised you,” I replied firmly.

“Of course you promised! You told me about the house and the move and how we were all starting a new chapter together!” she yelled.

“Talking about our personal move was never an invitation for you to move in with us,” Silas said without raising his voice.