My boyfriend’s dad gave me the best advice last night.
You do not and should not tell your parents everything.
My dad’s eyes were bloodshot and if I had not been safe in a separate car I don’t know what would happen. And this was because he refused that I pay for a year and a half of missed membership at the local sports club.
I defused with my mom on the phone, where she explained that controlling your own behavior can be the prevention for a pound of cure.
“He’s from a different generation,” Wen mused.
Just like how my coworkers all agree we consult boss as little as possible: she entrusts us to make our best judgment and pass on the minutiae of daily work.
That’s what it means to love someone, understand their inner workings, and therefore take care of them seamless and unknowing.