Me: Farrah, I don't feel good, honey. I need you to help take care of Mommy. (sniff, cough, cough)
Farrah: No. You can take care of yourself. I don't want to.
So...this is the life in which I must prepare myself. I should expect by the age of 60, that my daughter will be putting me in an "old-people's" home although I'll be completely healthy and totally coherent. Mike will be wondering where the hell I am and my daughter will simply shrug her shoulders and roll her eyes. At least, she'll be a bit more compassionate in her older age and decide that clearly I can't take care of myself and therefore, will have the nursing staff do it for me. I will, of course, understand this decision of hers, because after all, she did tell me when she was two. I was forewarned.
On a nicer note, she does say to me all the time, "I love you soooooo much, mommy."
My next question should be, "So much that you won't have me put away?"