In the car this morning, in the midst of a conversation that careened around the topics of foster care, gross anatomy classes and what color the sky really isn't, Buddy commented that his dad was a good friend and that he planned on being friends with him when he was grown up and didn't need to be taken care of anymore.
Feeling reckless I said, "Is your mom a good friend?"
A serious, thoughtful silence emanated from the back seat. Finally, Buddy said, "I like friends who are real suckers and give me toys and candy whenever I want. That's why Daddy is my friend. I don't think you can be my friend."
It's good to know he's gotten such an important philosophy figured out. And now, more than ever, I have to say I'm completely fine with not being Buddy's friend.