Misery Loves Company

Little Miss O’s Daddy called me this morning. As soon as I saw the number on my phone screen, I knew something was up. He never calls me this early unless something serious is going down, meaning he won’t be able to have his time with his little girl this week.

‘Good morning, what’s up?’
‘Oh hi... Umm...I just wanted to let you know I have the flu.’

Yep, that’s something serious. For a big man, my ex catches the flu in the same manner as his 4 year old daughter. It knocks him around for quite awhile. 

‘Ahh no!!’ I said sympathetically, ‘So can I send our daughter to you so she can breathe it in and get over it quickly?’

I was joking. But it shows how much O’s Daddy adores having her that he did offer to have her regardless, he was just worried about her (and by extension her very pregnant mother) catching it.

I quickly assured him that he wouldn’t be having her, much as I knew he wanted to, because six months pregnant and fending off the flu wasn’t my idea of a party. I did, however, insist on putting the speakerphone on so he could let our princess know she wouldn’t be sleeping over at Daddy’s this week. (Not a hope in hell was I dropping this bomb!)

This revelation went over about as well as a racist joke. My little one was half dressed when I went in to her room, and when her Daddy said ‘I’m a little sick so we won’t be having a sleepover tonight’ her little face crumbled and she flung her arms around my neck, devastated little sobs emanating from somewhere around the boobal region.

I could hear my poor ex’s heart breaking, so I suggested if he was feeling up to it tomorrow that perhaps an hour or two in the park with his little girl might be ok? He hates missing out on the time with her, which I understand and am thrilled with, and it relieved me when he said that’d be great. O looks forward to her visits with Daddy all week. She knows when they’re coming up and by Wednesday my kitchen table is a mess of pictures ‘I drew of me and my Daddy’ so I didn’t want her missing that time completely.

With this idea in place, I reassured my ex that I’d deal with the still-sobbing preschooler, and hung up with instructions to let me know if he needed the good flu drugs.

Once off the phone, I cuddled my little girl and finished dressing her. Normally she does this herself, but disappointment had turned her into some kind of ragdoll hybrid. We discussed why she wasn’t able to go for a sleepover at her Daddy’s house, how Daddy had yukky germs making him sick and that we’d draw him a picture after kinder to take him and make him feel better. These suggestions seemed to help, but she wasn’t 100% convinced, so B took her in his arms and reminded her how much her Daddy loves her and how sad he was that he couldn’t see her tonight. He asked her if she wanted to be sick, which was met with head shakes, and then if she wanted to make the baby in Mummy’s tummy sick, which was met with much more emphatic head shakes.

Suitably reassured, though still visibly disappointed, I bundled my little girl into the car and took off for kinder.

At the gate to the kindergarten, precious O turned to me with a thoughtful expression on her face. 

‘Mummy, I’m sad because I don’t get to see my Daddy today’
‘I know, darling, but it’ll be OK, we’ll do something special tonight to make up for it’
‘It’s ok Mummy. I know Daddy loves me, and he’s sad too. So I’ll be ok.’

I’m so glad to see my child heartened by sharing misery with her father.