Yup. I've made my decision. I'm going to follow my father's advice and live long enough to become a pain the &#% to my children. I want to be a difficult child senior citizen when I grow up. I'm going to throw food and refuse to take my medications. I'm going to wander off and not tell anyone where I'm going. I'm going to use my children's credit cards to buy useless knick knacks that never get unpacked, then claim I don't remember who they (kids) are or what they're talking about. I'm going to misbehave so my private duty nurse has to call my children daily about my behavior problems. I'm going to move in with my children and "accidentally" knock holes in the walls with my cane or walker, then again claim to not have a clue what they're talking about. I'll behave beautifully with doctors and medical professionals when I'm in-patient so they think my children are looney when they complain about afore mentioned bad behaviors. I'm going to teach their children how to dance on restaurant tables and car roofs, screaming until everyone in the room stares in shock and disbelief. I'm going to throw fits in Wally World and the grocery store when they tell me I can't have something. Oh, I can see that aging is going to have its perks. Yup. Yup. That is my goal - to be a little blue haired, hump-backed, cane-toting difficult child senior. Suddenly, I don't mind the gray hair so much.