I'm going to kick Sydney in the can...

It's not like I haven't written about this subject before...

With the bulk of Sydney's salary heading toward her fall tuition, I generously handed over the reins of returning the redeemables. I considered a 60/40 split but, for goodness sake, I am her mother, after all. Like to spoil that girl, once in awhile. "Thank you," she said, uncertainly, when I delivered the good news. "Think of it as a once-a-week free fancy iced coffee treat," I told her, "Our gift to you!" "Or," her father suggested, "you could save up the money and maybe buy a college textbook. Used, of course."

Sydney, naturally, was thrilled.

Imagine our surprise then..."Wait! I wasn't surprised," my husband interrupted, "I predicted this."...when Sydney decided to convert her car into a mobile redemption center. "I thought you told her to save up the money...not the cans," I sighed as she tried to reverse her way into her parking spot, her entire body twisted out the driver's side window because she couldn't see past the mountains of cans and bottles in her backseat. This was a nightmare. "The neighbors are judging us, you know," I yelled as cans bounced along the road and under her car. She swiftly picked them up with a practiced hand, flung them into the car, and threw herself bodily at the door to close it. It took her two times to accomplish the task. With a quick flip of her hair over the shoulder, she walked gracefully to us. Her lack of shame was shameful.

Her sister, home from Connecticut, peered into the vehicle and briefly entertained the thought of returning this backseat bottle booty herself. "There must for about twenty dollars of cans in there," she marveled.

And then it happened. Syd's car needed to be inspected. Thank you, New York State, for charging us a bottle return fee as well as making us pay annually for the privilege to ensure our vehicles are up to the standards of driving on your pristinely maintained roads. We LOVE it!  It was like a magic wand had been waved and before you could say, "Bibbity...bobbity...boo..." the bottles had disappeared. As she was working, Brad and I picked up the car. I marveled at the spacious interior. "Isn't this amazing! I knew she could do it," I said to my husband who was uncharacteristically quiet. "What?" I asked, dread entering my heart. "Have you seen her room," he said.

Oh no!

Oh yes.

The mobile redemption center was currently parked in my daughter's bedroom. She's twenty, folks. And that's about what I got when I returned the cans. And bought myself a fancy iced coffee treat. Extra-large. With whipped cream.