The kind of conflict I don't mind so much.

When we went to Wally World yesterday to buy jeans for Heir No. One and some groceries, the Salvation Army was out front ringing the bell. When we left, Heir No. One was very upset that I didn't give any money to the bell ringer. As we proceeded out in to the parking lot, he kept needling me, telling me I was mean, and that people needed our help. I told him I didn't have any cash, which was true...I haven't had any since 1992, but that is another story. He still refused to believe me, and I found myself angrily reaching into my pockets and pulling out receipts, a coin which isn't legal tender, a pen, and my leatherman, but no cash. Not deterred, he then started asking me about my wallet, and didn't stop until I showed him that it too was bereft of cash. He finally relented, though I could see his anxiety level was still high. After we were two blocks away, I had calmed down enough to realize that his concern was genuine. I really couldn't be more proud of him, and I told him so, and why. I hope we can have these conversations for a long while to come.