Sadly, yet another innocent pastry has been taken in the prime of its life.
Late last night, as I've just about channel-surfed my way into the proper mental zone for entrance into the Chamber of Sleep, yonder comes the tentative slap of bare feet on hardwood, The Boy Himself carried along by them, crying and wakeful because he's haunted by the image of himself as he was told his mother was leaving us (a year ago this coming Sunday).
So he talked and cried a bit, and I stroked his hair and patted his shoulder, and when I asked him, as I always do, if he'd shared these feelings with the mother in question, he told me, as he always does, that he hadn't.
So I had him call her, right then and there, and lay it on her.
Which p*ssed her off, apparently, because she was on a date.
"Oh well, too bad, so sad," as They Themselves like to say.
This evening, it was the Girl Herself's turn: Mommy says divorcing you was the best choice she ever made in her life, which means it was better than choosing to be our mother!
Well, well, well. So I did my thing -- can't speak for your mother, etc., but if I had to guess, I'd be pretty sure she meant best choice about her situation, but that she really thinks it was only the THIRD best choice of her life, after you and your brother, blah blah blah. But that's not what she said!
Well, sweetie, your mother has lots of special qualities, but I have to admit she's never been really all that good at making herself clear (he said, chuckling demonically to himself because Boy, Howdy! ain't that the truth?).
Then I posted a little message about kid talk on the website, asking her if she wouldn't be so kind as to reinforce for Themselves that the Wonderfulness of dumping me pales in comparison to the Wonderfulness of being their mother.
"I use the word, 'reinforce,'" I added, "because I have complete confidence that you've already told them this plenty of times, but maybe you just haven't found the words that will make them really get it."
