“Did you at least get a good story out of it?” I asked.

My mother is a retired kindergarten teacher. She has spent thirty years explaining to small children why you shouldn’t lick windows. Her patience is legendary. But I could see the twitch in her left eye.

We sat in silence for a moment. The clock ticked.

“With snacks or weapons?”

“Next time,” she said, finishing the last of the pistachio, “I’m bringing you. You can make faces at him from across the table.”

I winced. “What else?”