My son cut me off for 13 years until he learned I was a new millionaire. He showed up at my door with bags and his wife. “As your son, I’m entitled to some of this. We’re moving in. You have all this extra space anyway.” I smiled and did what I should have done a long time ago.

The audacity hit me like a freight train. Kevin stood on my doorstep with his designer luggage and that entitled smirk I remembered too well. “As your son, I’m entitled to some of this,” he announced, gesturing toward my house like he owned it. “We’re moving in. You have all this extra space anyway.”

Thirteen years of silence. And this was his grand reunion speech.