Money Talks

It must have been something I said.

I meant to tell J-Fed to have a Happy Thanksgiving… and I did. Unfortunately, I also espoused that I hoped he choked to death on his sweet potato pie. I’m not sure what got me so fired up. While he had the kids for Thanksgiving – 3 p.m. pick-up time – he called me several times. I thought of my children having a gay old time, enjoying a big-wide spread with all of the fixings.

And then I thought of the fact that I was missing out on our one-year-old’s first Thanksgiving. I suddenly became sad. It was a “first” that I wouldn’t be part of. So when he placed call number four to assure me that I’d have them for Christmas, bitterness got the better part of me and that’s when I expressed my wishes that he would meet his untimely demise over a slice of his mother’s homemade dessert.

I hung up right after, leaving him no opportunity to issue a scathing rebuttal. However, he knows how to get me where it hurts. It was 6:45 a.m. this morning when he called to let me know he’d be bringing the kids home.

“I told you 7:30 – no earlier,” I sneered. It was bad enough I had missed out on their Thanksgiving. However, I would have at least liked to have had the opportunity to sleep in JUST ONE DAY. But nah.

“I have to go to work. I have to meet someone BEFORE 7:30,” he told me.

Within five minutes he showed up at the house with kids in tow. He placed daughter in her playpen as I struggled to get out of bed. As he walked out the door, I zinged him with an insult likening him to a certain part of the male anatomy.

“What did you just say?” he responded.

“You heard me. Just leave,” I said in between yawns.