Buxton Wallets

When children turn 18, it's supposed to mark their launch into adulthood. It's supposed to be the time when they start taking responsibility for their own 'stuff'. Beyond 18, parents are limited in their ability to dictate the terms of existence for a child. Parents can't tell them "No, you can't move out" anymore. You can't say "I don't think that person is someone you should be hanging around with" and expect anything more than respect for your opinion. But respect doesn't necessarily mean action.

Unless, of course, your child is going to college. Then things get a little fuzzy around the edges. The parent/child relationship, instead of being severed, still hangs on by a number of slender threads. And tough little threads they are.

And yes, your relationship with your child and the rules governing that relationship have changed and they are no longer clearly defined. But with that lack of clarity, with the 'fuzziness' that now permeates your relationship with the fruit of your loins, one thing becomes painfully clear: You have become ... a walking wallet.

I'm going to give all you young parents out there a piece of advice. Because we aren't related, you don't have to listen to me if you don't want to - just as my sons, all now over 18, don't have to listen to me, either. All I can do is hope.

As much as you need to plan for your retirement, you need to plan for college for your children. It's going to take money. Money for books, tuition, room and board, laundry, trips to the snack shop and many, many other things that just seem to 'come up' and they all require the expenditure of Bucks. Since Junior's access to resources is limited, at best, you can bet your bottom buck that they'll come to you when all other resources are exhausted. Or even before.

Because, whether you knew it or not, your middle name, with a child in college, became "Buxton".

Ndinombethe.