Despite all the whininess and crankiness, Randall can be surprisingly good and flexible sometimes, like today when I couldn’t find a parking spot near the restaurant and decided to settle with a lot that was only for bank customers, thinking the passenger wouldn’t find out. But then I heard him say,

“You can’t park here. If the police comes, our car will be towed away.”

“It’s probably fine. It’s just for a few minutes.” I tried to convince him, knowing he would collapse if I couldn’t.

“You can park there, mom.” he continued, pointing to the square across the street, “There’s a lot of space over there.”

I looked. Indeed.