One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies (the Princess Bride, which I have seen probably a kajillion times). Not one of my favorite things my son has to go through.
Because the ex couldn’t manage to see his son for Thanksgiving, I offered (at Grammy’s urging) to give him the week between Christmas and New Years for visitation. I suggested he or they come down to the beach for a few days, even rent a house real cheap to see The Boy.
I hadn’t heard anything more about it (although Grammy had overheard the phrase “meet you somewhere” in a phone call between The Boy and the ex), so I texted him last night to see what was up.
I expected him to hem and haw a bit more, but he said straight out he couldn’t get any time off, and couldn’t do it. Sorry.
I expect this every time, and yet every time I cannot fathom why. I don’t know anyone (besides the ex) who is or would be completely comfortable not seeing his or her own child for eight months or longer, nor speak to him for a month or more at a time. I cannot understand his excuses, knowing how much I would do to ensure I would see my child.
But he is not me.
The Boy seemed a bit upset and irritated when I broke the news this evening. “Why?” he asked.
“Because he can’t get time off from work,” I said.
“Why can’t he get time off from work?”
I paused. Good question, kiddo. “You can ask him,” I suggested. “Want me to text him and have him call you?”
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
He’s getting as tired of this game as I am.