Budgeting for love

The life may be a bed of roses after all, but only if it's budgeted in the first place

Everyone and the world loves a lover, unless that lover happens to be your own son, in which case he’s just a goof-off, an idiot, a spitball, a loafer. These are among the milder, less offensive terms my wife has used in recent times to describe our son’s increasingly erratic ways, which include whispering silly nothings into his phone, his head tucked ostrich-like under his quilt (so we can eavesdrop on him spouting nonsense without him being aware of our presence, till a giggle gives us away), disappearing every evening post-work to spend time with his girlfriend (which means he’s