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Over dinner* last night, my son and I started talking about taxes. He said something about the tax implications of moving in with me.
I stared at him, and told him that since he's a renter, there are no tax implications. "Don't you know the difference between renting and owning?"
"Yeah, but..."
"You don't own the place unless your name is on the title."
Characteristically, he told me to just forget it. But I didn't, natch. This is just another example of the bizarre ideas that just... appear inside his head from no source that I can identify. I can only speculate that I'd told him about the mortgage interest tax deduction, and he somehow thought that would magically apply to him.
I texted Ex. She, too, thinks it's odd, but she's not as concerned. I'm sitting here wondering what other... happy horseshit? Baubles of bullshit? Have materialized in his head. As if autism, ADHD, and anxiety weren't bad enough, the Wendling occasionally sees reality through something that makes it much prettier than it is. Maybe it's the flip side of anxiety, the voice that told him to drive down a steep hill on an unplowed side street to buy a magazine.
What do I do?
*Welsh rarebit, salad, and blueberries.
I stared at him, and told him that since he's a renter, there are no tax implications. "Don't you know the difference between renting and owning?"
"Yeah, but..."
"You don't own the place unless your name is on the title."
Characteristically, he told me to just forget it. But I didn't, natch. This is just another example of the bizarre ideas that just... appear inside his head from no source that I can identify. I can only speculate that I'd told him about the mortgage interest tax deduction, and he somehow thought that would magically apply to him.
I texted Ex. She, too, thinks it's odd, but she's not as concerned. I'm sitting here wondering what other... happy horseshit? Baubles of bullshit? Have materialized in his head. As if autism, ADHD, and anxiety weren't bad enough, the Wendling occasionally sees reality through something that makes it much prettier than it is. Maybe it's the flip side of anxiety, the voice that told him to drive down a steep hill on an unplowed side street to buy a magazine.
What do I do?
*Welsh rarebit, salad, and blueberries.
no subject
Date: 2024-01-26 06:30 am (UTC)From:Yes, it’s a MIL. And since I wrote this I’ve learned that he said “deduction” when he meant “refund”, which makes way more sense.
no subject
Date: 2024-01-26 06:39 am (UTC)From: