One late evening, when I was alone at home, somebody rang up at the door and begged me to let him in. It was one of my son’s friends. He was talking about an accident. I opened the door. The boy was standing before me with his face all over in blood. I helped him and let him stay for the night. Later he confessed that he had wounded his face to have the courage to come. I was not a girl from romantic movies, so I told him to forget the whole thing and never come again. My son knew about the 'accident' and was very angry with me. So young boys cannot keep secrets.