Ask me where YM is. No, really, ask me.
He’s out bike riding with a friend from school.
After five years of having ZERO significant friendships with friends from school. He has a couple of friends at shul, but kids from school, coming over? Unheard-of. Not since grade five or six, anyway.
So naturally, I’m suspicious. What does he want with my own sensitive Rubik’s-cube prodigy slash someday-engineering-genius slash Talmudic iluy of a son???
A good last name certainly doesn’t mean he’s a nice boy.
A clean, pressed suit jacket doesn’t mean at all that he’s a nice boy.
Wearing a helmet when he comes to pick up my nice boy doesn’t mean he’s a nice boy… well, it could mean he’s a bit on the law-abiding side.
Coming from the 80s, my first thought when I wonder what kids are up to is “drugs,” but in this scenario, it’s probably more like Rubik’s cube hijinks or – possibly – illicit iPod Touch antics.
Or maybe, just maybe, they really are just out bike riding. Which would be nice. Which would mean he’s found a friend.