Alexander's friend comes over. While he's on his way, Alexander has to run to the store. His instructions to me before leaving? "If Gideon comes when I'm out, just open the door quickly and run away."
Or, said another way, don't talk to my friend. And in fact, it'll probably be best if you can just disappear quickly.
Alexander is seeing another friend tonight, and it's possible he might come back here with his friend later. Tonight's instructions are more emphatic, "Play dead," he tells me. Translated: since you don't have to open the door, you can act as if you're not here at all.
Earlier today I respond to a question on a topic Alexander brings up. He doesn't like my response and says, most calmly, "I don't like you." He apologizes later. "You know I of course love you, but sometimes you just bug me." I mean really. He asks for my advice; I give it; he doesn't like it; and so he correspondingly doesn't like me.
"I'm not like this with other people, only you," he tells me. I believe him.
Why are our grown children so much more tolerant of others than they are of their mothers? Am I the same with my mom? I like to think not, but I probably am.
Though I highly doubt I've ever asked her to play dead.
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