The ex has bagged out on Thanksgiving with The Boy, unless I consented to have his parents pick The Boy up the weekend before Thanksgiving, and have him miss three days of school. My response to that was, “That’s not a good idea,” and so, no visitation until who knows when.
The common sense thing for the ex to do, now that we live even further apart, would be to save up a little money so he could come down for a weekend, stay at a hotel and see his son. But that will never happen. He doesn’t save money, and when he does, he spends it on himself. He probably resents The Boy for the child support coming out of his check, and reasons that that’s enough money to be spending on him, and he shouldn’t have to spend any more just to see him.
If you’re keeping track, The Boy hasn’t seen his dad since April, and the phone calls have become less and less frequent. They are about once a month, now. He was excited about going to see his dad’s kitties for Thanksgiving, and even though I tell him every time it comes up not to get his hopes up, and that it might not happen, he still talks about it as if it is a certainty.
Yesterday, I purposely brought it up because we need to get him from this place of certainty that it will happen to a place of certainty that it won’t happen with as little stress, trauma, and disappointment as possible, not an easy feat. I said, “Wouldn’t it be nice to stick around here for Thanksgiving, and celebrate with me and our family?”
I repeated myself.
“Well, I still might go to my dad’s,” he said.
“And you might not,” I said.
“We’ll see,” he said, and then, “Let’s find out for sure.”
I told him I would ask his dad, knowing full well that I wouldn’t because I already know it won’t happen. So now it is my unhappy job to figure out when to break the news, and possibly come up with some distraction to soften the blow.
This is one of the most unfair parts of the job. I know no one ever said life would be fair, but this right here? This sucks.