I opened my home to my son and his wife — but after six months of living under their rules, everything changed the day they threw my cat out.

WHEN HELP TURNS INTO HABIT

At first, it all seemed reasonable.

My son was twenty-six. His wife, twenty-four. Newly married, no savings, terrified of mortgages and interest rates that stretched into retirement.

“Come stay with me,” I said. “It’s a three-room apartment. Save money. Get on your feet.”

I thought I was being a good mother.

I imagined shared dinners. Weekend pies. Laughter drifting down the hallway.

Naive.