Just before my son proposed, my little niece knocked the ring away and shouted: “Stop! This isn’t real!”

But Louis? My only child, my own flesh and blood, had never held a job for more than a few months. He floated from one passion to another, one fling to the next, as if life would always serve itself to him on a silver platter. His only consistency? Burning through what I earned.

“Louis,” I said one morning as he wandered into the kitchen around noon. “We need to have a serious talk.”

He grabbed a mug without looking at me. “About what now?”

“You’re 35. Don’t you think it’s time to get serious about something? To think long-term?”

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