Every week, there is a column in a well-known newspaper written by a mother whose son won't leave home. He is 24, and she appears to spend her time clearing up after him, cooking for him etc.
This is supposed to be amusing, but I find it absolutely infuriating. Children are SUPPOSED to leave home. That's what we prepare them for. When they reach 18 or thereabouts, they should be partying in their own (rented, shared, messy) place, pouring beer into their own carpets (okay. Bare floorboards), doing amazing things with other consenting nearly-adults, sleeping in their own (same) sheets for months, burning their own toast and running out of their own milk. That's what growing up is all about.
I love my children very dearly. They visit us often, and we love to see them. If they were to fall on hard times, I would welcome them home literally with open arms. But I don't want to live with them long-term any more than they want to live with me.
And if either of the younger two happens to be reading this, please, please will you come and collect the rest of your Stuff?