Oh...about twenty-two years ago, I made a bet with my brother Tom that there was no way I was going to college.  At the time, he was 17-18 deciding which school to attend and I was 10-11 convinced school was for the birds.  I remember the conversation like it was yesterday with me desperately looking for a reason why on earth Tom would willingly go to college.  I was absolutely positive my Mom was forcing him to go, but he assured me he was going on his own choosing.  I still did not buy it and said without a doubt that I would never attend school after twelfth grade!  I was so confident, I wagered my entire savings with Tom...luckily I only had a dollar to my name at the time (that video arcade addiction was a killer).  Well, as you can all guess, I lost the bet, although I don't think I ever paid Tom his winnings (hopefully he's not reading this and demanding interest).

I was completely reminded of this story a couple nights ago because Josh and I had quite the round about discussion leaving him in an all out balling session.  I have to admit, I think it was mostly because of the fact he was way over tired and had had an extremely busy day.  But for those of you that know Josh, he is 100% into power tools, outdoor tools, lawn tools, etc.  I was laying in bed with him discussing how great 'our power tools' are and he was in the middle of making fun of Tom again about not being able to start a lawn mower way back when.

Quick side story.  At some point several months ago, I told Josh about a time when I was about nine years old and Tom would have been sixteen years old.  Our Mom made Tom go out to mow the lawn and of course I followed in tow just to hang around Tom to watch.  He must have spent fifteen to twenty minutes trying to pull start our old mower to no avail.  He went back inside to tell our Mom that he wasn't going to mow because he could not start the mower.  Something possessed me at the time to go down and try to start the mower.  I not 100% sure I had ever even played with the mower, much less tried to start it, but I had just spent the last twenty minutes watching Tom yank on it and figured I could at least do the same.  You all know where I'm going with this.  Don't ask me how, but on my first yank, that old rust bucket of a mower fired up and the engine was roaring.  Tom and my Mom also heard the engine and as I raced inside to excitedly tell Tom and my Mom I had started the mower, I heard the 'tides' change on Tom.  Of course my Mom now believed Tom was lying when he was saying that he couldn't start the mower.  When I ran in at the ripe old age of 9 years old saying that I started the mower, my Mom almost went through the roof, now 100% convinced Tom was lying.  The rest of the story is a blurry memory, but you get the point, and I may have embellished it a bit for Josh.

So back to the present, Josh tells anyone who will listen, as if he was there, "Remember when my Dad was only nine years old and Tom was sixteen and my Dad started the mower and Tom couldn't?  My Dad has big muscles."  Then as he flexes and squeezes his 'muscles', "I think Tom's muscles are about this big...Tom's not very strong."  Again, Tom, if you are reading this, the whole 'muscle' part of the story, Josh deduced himself ;)  As Josh finished telling me his version of the story for the umpteenth time, I thought I'd tell him a bit more about my childhood in an effort to show him that I had to 'work' when I was younger and preparing him for the rash of chores I have planned for his future ;)

"You know what I had to do when I was little, just a bit bigger than you?  My Mom would make me go to other people's houses to mow their lawns, rake their leaves, and shovel their driveways.  I used to have to ride my bike to their houses and I'd pull the mower behind my bike!"

"Why didn't you use a snow blower?"

"Well, not very many people had snow blowers when I was younger.  That's why I had to go help people who weren't strong enough to shovel."

"You have big muscles.  Remember when you started the mower when you were nine years old?"

"Yeah I remember.  What do you like better, snow blowers or shovels?"

"SNOW BLOWERS!  I can lift our snow blower all by myself.  Do you think Tom could lift our snow blower?  Why didn't very many people have snow blowers when you were little?  Were they old timers?"  (Everything that doesn't meet Josh's 'standard of living' is called 'old timers' - unfortunately, I was the one who introduced him to that word)

"There just weren't that many snow blowers when I was little.  Not everyone has them now...Jim and Jenna (our neighbor) don't have a snow blower."

"Why don't they have a snow blower?"

"Because they have Chris to do it.  But next year they won't.  They'll probably buy one next year."  Just last weekend we went to Chris's Open House for graduation, as he's leaving for college next year.  Can you see where this is going?

"Why won't Chris do it next year?"

"Because he's going to college.  When you turn eighteen, you go away to college, kind of like Hogwarts.  I'll sure miss you when you go to college."  I now realized I had dug myself a hole.  A severely concerned look came over Josh's face.

"When do I get to come back?"

"Well, you can come back whenever you want, but usually, people only come back on the holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"Do I have to go tomorrow?"  Concern was growing more and more.

"No, you don't go until your eighteen.  You are four right now, so you have fourteen years before you go."

"Whoa...that's a long time...Harry didn't even come home for the holidays because he didn't like the Dursley's."

"Yeah I know, but the Dursley's didn't really love Harry.  Mom and I love you very much and will want you to come back all the time."  I thought I was in the clear now as his mind seemed to shift away from the fear of having to 'go to college'.  So we said our 'good nights" after a little more conversation and I went to the office to work.  Five minutes later, Josh was having a melt down and crying.  I went back in there and he was babbling about me not snuggling enough, not reading enough, not enough light, etc.  Basically, like I said, he was just way too tired, and after trying to calm him down and him not listening, I just told him I had to leave and it was time for him to go to sleep.  He quieted himself into a whimper as I left, then a bit later started crying again.  I was going to let him work it out, but Ann's maternal instincts kicked in and she went down to console him.

He proceeded to tell her through the sobbing that "he didn't like school", "why can't you visit when you go to college?", "do I have to go to college?", "will Audrey go to college?", "he never wanted to go to college", "he wanted to stay with her forever", etc.  Ann of course was just soaking up the love from Josh, and reassured him that he never had to go to college.  Sound familiar?  Well, the next thing I know, Josh is walking back up to our bedroom with Ann and explained to me that he had no intention of going to college.  At this point, I felt too sorry for him to even try to explain to him that he'd want to go to college...

Hey, I got an idea...I should bet him his savings! (which by the way is much more than mine was when I was little)

So, my advice to parents of four year olds...do not even mention the word college!  Does this mean we don't have to have a 529 Plan?!