The Foca came to take our son swimming last night. He'd sent no text saying he would so I wasn't sure he'd come. He has forgotten in the past, but I no longer send reminding texts.
So yes good!
Not a word to me when he picked up the boy.
At 7.30, as the strains of Coronation Street were filling the air, my son came home.
Usually the Foca's at the door, but last night he'd gone straight out to The Toilet.
I went out. "So is our son coming back on Sunday then this weekend?"
This weekend has remained quite ambiguous because we'd agreed a Monday return for it in mediation but he'd emailed saying Sunday 'for the next few terms'.
"I'm not talking to you," he said. "I'll send you an email."
"You can say now whether our son's coming back this Sunday."
He pressed the button and the Toilet door closed.
"Let's not drag this on," he'd said in the email. The school hasn't responded to the last email. This has clearly riled him.
If he'd got what he wanted through the mediation, he'd tell me to 'get over it' if I got stroppy. But no, instead, he behaves like a prick.
You'll get the next installment to this drawn out story when I receive his next email. Be thankful, as I am, that the saga isn't played four times a week with an omnibus edition on Sunday.
Or maybe it is.
I should think of a theme tune.
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2 comments:
Poor sweetie. YOu don't need that shit! Why are blokes so childish sometimes? I think you're right. He didnt' get his own way did he.
Thinking of you xxxx
Cheers mamma! I wish I knew the answer to your question, tis a toughy! I mean the Foca left 6 years ago, got himself a wife and couple of kids. Maybe he's like that with me cos he can't be like that with her. After all, where would he be if she decides to flee? Still, that's no excuse.
I don't know the answer, but a top question to post on one of those community boards!
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