Happy Easter! You Want Fries With That?

I was raised as a Southern Baptist.  And while I can appreciate the religious meaning that goes along with Easter and pastel colored eggs, I cannot condone the lack of intelligence that graces my ex-husband.  I’m assuming that I am OK to write about ex-husbands as this is a female driven website. 

 

I’m a divorcee and I have a 9-year-old boy who is the most precious gem I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.  Every year, for Easter, I have made it a point to educate him on the true meaning of Easter and that Easter baskets are societies way of making it a “fun” holiday for little kids that don’t understand the practicing of the “Last Supper” in church.  At least that’s my take. 

 

Well this year I did not have him for Easter.  So, no preaching, and no bringing him along to my fiancés families house for Easter ham and leg of lamb.  A truly fantastic meal – by the way.  After we were done eating my ex texted me and told me he was waiting out front of my house and demanded to know where I was.  Yeah, because that tone worked so well the first 12 years of our marriage.  So like a bad guest, my fiancé and I scrambled to gather our things and fly home to see my son.

 

I raced through the door and grabbed his cold cheeks and kissed him all over.  I asked him how his Easter was and waited with anticipation to hear all about his exciting day with his father. 

 

“Eh, it was ok, we went camera hunting.”

 

“Camera hunting? What’s that?”  I’m confused.

 

“We went to the hills and took pictures of stuff.”  He says to me while he’s getting his pajamas on. 

 

“Oh, well did you go to your Nana’s for dinner?”  His “Nana” is the cook of that family and always has something extravagant planned out for Easter dinner.  Usually it’s “guess that meat” but I’m not bitter.

 

“No.”  He says without missing a beat.

 

“Well what did you do for Easter dinner?  Did your Dad make a ham or anything?”

 

“We went to Wendy’s.”

 

“Who’s Wendy?”  Thinking for SURE he didn’t mean the cartoon with braids that sits on every major street corner in this town.

 

“You know, Wendy’s? ‘Do what tastes right”? He proceeds to recite their slogan to me.  Note to self, no more T.V. for Mr. Man.

 

“You went to Wendy’s? For Easter? Why didn’t you go to Nana’s?”  Some more of my damn business, but really?  Wendy’s?

 

Completely un-phased by this, “Yeah, we didn’t have time to have dinner with Nana.”

 

Now, while I appreciate my ex feeding my son – so thank you for that, why on earth would he think that Wendy’s was a good meal to sit down to for Easter? 

 

Am I being completely irrational?  I’m sure that I am.  I just have this overwhelming feeling of guilt right now.  He’s 9.  He doesn’t care.  But I’m concerned that he truly does and while I was surrounded by my fiancés family eating ham and fruit salad, he was chowing down on square patties and floppy fries.  Oy. Please tell me I’m blowing this completely out of context.  He’s resilient and probably could care less about the meaning of this holiday.  Not that Easter has to be celebrated by copious amounts of food and glutton-like frenzies.  Maybe it’s my own guilt for not being able to celebrate this day with him.  Who knows.  But Wendy’s?

 

Nothing says “Happy Easter” like a cheeseburger and fries.

 

 

 

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