J-Fed Goes Mentor

“Bring it on, sister,” I told her.

“My husband can help! He will take J-Fed to soccer. He will take him to the library. He will play basketball with him and read for him every night. He’ll be like a big brother of husbands.”

I stifled my laughter. I could just picture Jason shadowing her husband, learning the ropes of being a good father and a good husband. It was sheer genius. Maybe if J-Fed saw what a real husband did, he’d be able to follow in someone’s footsteps.

Finally, some progress. If I could get J-Fed a mentor, maybe things would get better around the house. Suddenly, I had visions of him mopping the floor, taking the kids to birthday parties at the much-abhorred Chuck E. Cheese, planting bougainvilleas in our garden.

I pictured him doing good things, things that didn’t involve urinating on our new furniture in a drunken stupor. In my vision, his cigarettes and fraps were replaced with a cup of tea and a biscotti.

I drifted off into the sweetest daydream ever. My heart melted at the mere thought of having one of the “good ones.”

I explained to my friend that on the surface J-Fed was perfect, a handsome devil that was easy on the eyes. However, he had some major flaws that I was having a hard time wrapping my head around, i.e. pissing on furniture.

“Well you can’t have it all,” she sneered. “Seriously, get him a mentor. That may be your only hope.”

My friend sat back with a smug grin on her face. For we both knew that if we were going to get J-Fed in training, we’d first have to get him to check out of the Splitsville Suites. And the way it was looking, the fat cat wasn’t about to give up his lap of luxury just yet.

Unhappily Ever After,

Kiki