He shakes his head without hesitation. “No. My tummy really hurtths.”
I pick up the spatula and wave it at the entrance to the kitchen. “Okay. Go back to your room or go lie down on the couch in the family room, and I’ll bring you some of our special tea.”
“Okay, Mommy,” he says with the most pitiful voice I’ve ever heard. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
Aaaand my heart melts right there on the kitchen floor . . . This kid knows how to play me like a guitar virtuoso. Twang twang . . . and I’m toast.
Sophie wanders into the kitchen next. “What’s wrong with him?” my ten-year-old asks, gesturing at the little guy who just shuffled past her like a disinterested zombie, his pajama bottoms so long they tuck under his feet.
“He’s not feeling very well this morning.”
“Oh, boy, here we go again.” Sophie rolls her eyes.
I point at a seat with my spatula. “Sit. And be nice. He can’t help it that his stomach hurts.”
She drops her voice. “Mom, you know he’s totally faking it.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Not this time, anyway.” I push some eggs around, wondering if anyone is going to eat them. They’re not looking so great.
She hisses out her disbelief. “Whatever.”
I could engage with her, but right now I need to save my energy for the excuse I’m about to make to my boss. He has a way of making me feel desperate and sneaky, even when I’m telling the truth about why I can’t come to work. It’s not like I’m hungover and blaming it on a little kid’s fake stomachache.
Melody comes into the kitchen next, which is completely normal; my almost-eight-year-old is always the last one down the stairs, the last one out the door, and the last one in bed. And right now, she’s still half asleep, which is also status quo.
“Good morning, Merry Sunshine,” I say in an especially bright voice.
“Morning, Mama,” she mumbles. She gets up on the stool in front of the kitchen counter and rests her chin in her hands. A few seconds later her head drops to the side, startling her awake.
I put a big glass of orange juice in front of my very disoriented, sleepy daughter. “Drink this. It’ll wake you up.”
“Do we have to go to school?” she whines, taking the glass and holding it in front of her while she waits for my answer.
“Yes, you have to go to school. What did you guys do with your dad this weekend, anyway? Why are you all so tired?”
Sophie pipes up, sounding very happy about the information she’s delivering. “We got to stay up until one in the morning.”
I put my spatula down gently on the counter, trying like crazy to control my temper. I so want to Hulk-out right now.
“Great. Excellent,” I say with exaggerated patience. “I suppose you also ingested ten pounds of candy.”
Melody perks up. “More like a ton.” She is also very happy about her weekend.
Bastard, Miles! I am going to kill you!
“Sammy barfed,” Sophie says. “It was disgusting.”
Melody’s grimacing right along with her sister. “Yeah. It was disgusting. Daddy’s girlfriend got really mad.”
“I don’t like her,” Sophie says before I can interrupt. “She’s totally stuck-up.”
“Sophie! Don’t say that!”
Sophie shrugs. “Well, she is.”
This is the first I’ve heard of Miles having an actual girlfriend. I thought he just dated girls who are barely legal, avoiding all forms of actual commitment.
I poke at the eggs. “So, Daddy has a girlfriend, huh?”
“Yeah. But he said not to tell you and that it wasn’t any of your business.” Sophie seems to delight in delivering this little nugget of information. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s enjoying getting me worked up.
My grip on the spatula goes very Hulk-like. I flex a few of the muscles in my arms and legs, just for fun. It helps keep my mind off the fact that I want to murder the father of my children right now. How dare he play games with our kids?
“He’s right,” I say as cheerily as I can. “It’s not my business and I don’t care.”
Melody speaks next. “But if he has a girlfriend, he’s never going to come home.”
I drop the spatula in the pan, turn off the stovetop, and turn around. “Melody, honey, you need to stop thinking that way. Your daddy and I are never, ever, ever getting back together.” Thank you, Taylor Swift, for reminding me that I