157. What Time is It?:
“What time is it?” my youngest daughter asked for the umpteenth time that morning.
“The same time, give or take a few seconds, that it was before when you asked me,” I replied.
I was getting sick of her asking. Anybody would have thought something exciting was going to happen.
Well, I guess it was… for her.
Her father had finally agreed to take her for one weekend. I couldn’t quite believe it myself, but being the cynic (and the realistic adult) that I was, I wouldn’t actually believe it until he arrived. I was just waiting for the phone call for him to think of some excuse.
I sighed loudly.
“What’s wrong mummy?” my daughter asked, looking up at me, her eyes wide with concern.
I patted her head. “Nothing sweetheart, I’m just tired.”
I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I knew who it would be before I even looked at the screen.
“Something’s come up,” the message read.
“Fuck you!” I muttered under my breath. I was so mad.
How do you tell a child who is constantly let down by someone that it’s happened yet again?
“What time is it?” she asked again.
Time to let go and move on, I thought to myself, but I didn’t say it.