It was granted, but only after his mother had come over to his side of the table and wiped his mouth for him with her napkin. Her loving maternal ministrations did little to make him feel at home; instead, her smothering care made him feel as if she thought he was an incompetent four-year-old who couldn’t even wipe his face properly.
She let him go and watch TV until eight-thirty, when she made him go to bed. He lay in his bed staring at the nightlight long after midnight, thinking about how she had treated him at dinner. He realized that in some respects, Mary had been right. His mother did seem to be happy to have him under her care again. She was treating him as if he was a ten-year-old. He still had an adult mind! Couldn’t she comprehend that? The episode on the banister that morning had only been a lark.