Once upon a time there was a 3 year old that was still breastfeeding. Of course this was a child old enough to eat a hamburger and carry on a conversation, but he still wanted to nurse. It was embarrassing to everyone, except the 3 year old that was too immature to feel embarrassment. His friends teased him, and his siblings, even younger ones, were happily weaned and independent from mommy's breast. One day the day came when mommy said no more. The 3 year old felt unloved and tossed aside, and screamed and cried. After a while he got over it and drank from his cup like a big boy and felt proud of himself, and his friends no longer teased him. Mommy was much happier to be independent and spent more time with Daddy.

Once upon a time there was a 23 year old that was still bringing laundry to his Dad and SM's house. Of course this was a man old enough to go to the laundromat or rent a place with laundry equipment, but he still wanted to depend on Dad and SM for laundry stuff. It was embarrassing to everyone, except the 23 year old that was too immature to feel embarrassment. His friends teased him, and his siblings, even younger ones, were happily self-sufficient and independent from Dad and SM's washer and dryer. One day the day came when Dad and SM said no more. The 23 year old felt unloved and tossed aside, and screamed and cried. After a while he got over it and took his laundry to the laundromat like a man and felt proud of himself, and his friends no longer teased him. SM was much happier to be independent and spent more time with Daddy.

I really don't see much difference between a 3 year old that still wants to nurse and a 23 year old that still wants to bring laundry to their parent's house.

I guess I should be counting my blessings that he moved out.