He tiptoed down the stairs and eased onto the couch beside me.
"I decided to run away..." he started.
"I put my pillow in my bed to look like my body, and I wrote a note, too." he continued. "I put it under your door."
"Can I read it?" I asked.
"I already erased it."
"Well, have you packed?"
"I decided I'm not going. First, I really was mad and I was going to run away. Then I thought about it and I decided just to hoodwink you, to make it look like I was running away, so you could still see how mad I was. So I left the pillow there and hid. But then I decided it was too much trouble either way, so I just erased the note and put everything away."
I didn't have to ask him why he was mad, I knew. But I was glad he changed his mind, and I told him so. We were quiet for a while, then I asked what made him decide not to run away after all.
"Well, I was going to have to rely on the kindness of neighbors. And I started to think about what foods they'd cook, and what if they had additives? I knew if I had a reaction, they'd kick me out. So that's when I decided to just hoodwink you instead."
You have to admit, he had thought things through.
I looked at the note, later. You can still read it. It says, "I am so close to runing away, you know! better say sorry. Guess who wrote this"
A few lines down the page, he'd added:
"I ran away! Sorry. To late! I told you what woud happen."
Poor boy! He can't even run away. It took all my restraint not to make him a hobo's bandana/stick bundle of additive-free treats to put over his shoulder and shoo him out the door.
Luckily, we had something fun to do, instead. An hour of Songkran fun and he no longer wants to leave. And for the record: yes, I apologized.