Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
-Khalil Gibran, from The Prophet - "On Children"
It happens rather quickly, that realization that our children are not our own. They are unique and making their own way in the world, finding their own passions.
My teenage sons have their own bathroom. This is for the best, I think--we all need a little privacy. (And yes, I do insist that they keep it from getting entirely disgusting.)
The STUFF they have in there is sometimes a little... odd.
When they were younger, it was snorkels. Last year it was draining camelback pouches.
Right now it's their soldering iron*. I am not sure WHY the bathroom counter has become the home for this favorite tool. But hey, they've been trying to fix broken things, and thus far no one has burned down anything. So I'll give them a little space and the benefit of the doubt.
*Yes, one of them put a soldering iron on his Christmas list last year.
Given that my dad is a blacksmith, this isn't an entirely random hobby.