My Son Threatens To Move Out If I Don’t Buy Him A Car – Here’s What I Did

Since my son Michael turned 22 last month, I thought our difficult teenage years were behind us. I had no idea a storm was brewing.

One day, while I was making lunch, Michael stormed in, visibly frustrated. “We need to talk, Mom,” he said seriously.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked.

“A car,” he said. “I need one.”

I was surprised. “How’s your part-time job? You were saving for one.”

He sighed. “It’s taking too long, and I can’t wait anymore. I’m tired of relying on you for rides or the bus. All my friends have cars.”

“Michael, cars are expensive. You just need to save a little more,” I said, trying to stay calm.

He cut me off. “No, I can’t wait. Maybe I’ll move in with Dad and get one from him.”

His words hit me hard. My ex-husband, David, had always tried to buy Michael’s love. I couldn’t believe Michael would use that against me.

“Michael, threatening to leave because you’re not getting what you want isn’t fair,” I said, trying not to lose my temper.

“I’m just tired of waiting. Dad would understand,” he muttered.

“Your dad isn’t here. Getting you a car won’t fix everything,” I said, hoping he’d see reason.

But the conversation ended there, and the tension hung in the air for days. Every attempt to talk about it led to arguments.

One evening over dinner, I tried again. “Michael, can we talk about the car?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You won’t get me one,” he grumbled.

“It’s not just about the car,” I said. “It’s about how you’re handling this.”

He shrugged. “Dad would understand.”

“Running away isn’t the solution,” I told him, but he didn’t want to hear it.

The tension grew until, one morning, I found a note: “Mom, I’m going to Dad’s. I can’t stand it here anymore.”

My heart sank. I called his phone, but it went to voicemail. Desperate, I finally reached David, but Michael wasn’t with him.

For days, Michael didn’t answer my calls or texts. Then, one evening, there was a knock at the door. It was Michael, looking exhausted.

“Can we talk, Mom?” he asked softly.

Relieved, I hugged him. “Of course.”

We sat down, and he apologized. “I was wrong. Running away didn’t solve anything.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” I said. “But we need to talk about what happened.”

We discussed responsibility, communication, and the challenges of growing up. Michael realized that owning a car meant more than just freedom; it came with responsibilities. And I learned that even in tough times, communication is key.

From that day, we worked to rebuild our relationship, stronger than before, knowing we could face challenges together.