After My Son Called Me A Nanny, I Chose To Divorce

While cleaning up my son’s scattered toys, he suddenly spoke.

“Actually, I’m quite ashamed to have a mother like you.”

My hand was scratched by a toy and I was momentarily unable to react.

He said to himself, “Even though you wash my clothes and cook for me, that’s not the kind of mother I want. A mother should be like Miranda, not a nanny like you.”

I felt like I’d been hit hard.

Perhaps my face was too grim, but my son burst into tears and threw himself into my husband’s arms.

My husband said helplessly, “Don’t get angry with a child. Children his age loved pretty things and it’s normal to want a young, beautiful girl who can play with them. You looked disheveled and when you went to his parent-teacher conference the other day, his friends laughed at him for having a nanny. He felt ashamed, so he said that.”

I was speechless. It turned out that he was venting his anger on me because I refused to let my husband’s childhood sweetheart accompany us to the parent-teacher conference.

In the past, I would have squatted down and explained things to him. But at this moment, I felt incredibly exhausted.

I decided I needed a break.

So, I had my lawyer file a divorce petition, packed my bags and rented an apartment.

The day I left home, he and his son were preparing to attend Miranda’s birthday party.

He and his son didn’t even stop and only jokingly asked me back.

“Just because of what your son said, you want a divorce?”

I hummed softly.

——

The family was busily dressed and passed me by.

But no one stopped to listen.

Nancy put on her earrings in the mirror and made a perfunctory comment.

“Are you mad about Miranda going to the parent-teacher meeting in your place? She isn’t a stranger. She felt bad for you being busy with housework and wanted you to rest more. You should be grateful for that. Instead, you flew into a rage and are now threatening divorce.”

Gary shook his head. “That’s completely unreasonable.”

But was I really unreasonable?

A week ago, my son’s kindergarten graduation parent-teacher conference took place.

I’d been looking forward to it for so long.

To make my son proud, I ignored Nancy’s sarcasm and Hannibal’s disapproval and used my savings to buy myself a new dress.

When Gary knew I was going to the conference, he scolded me for running around all day and neglecting to clean the house.

I got up early and prepared all the chores, clothes and meals.

Excited and happy, I went to the kindergarten in my dress, but was stopped by the kindergarten security guard and the homeroom teacher.

“You’re Hughie’s mother? How could that be? Hughie’s mother is right there. Who are you? If you don’t explain clearly, we’ll call the police.”

Through their shoving, I saw my husband and Miranda, one on each side, holding my son’s hand, all three of them wearing identical clothes.

I pushed past the homeroom teacher, rushed over, grabbed Hannibal and said, “Why did you ask Miranda to come to our son’s parent-teacher meeting? This is the parents’ section; she shouldn’t be here. You even asked her to go to the audience.”

I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that statement.

But they were mad at me for a long time because of it.

The door was unlocked. Miranda walked in and held my house key.

“Godmother, Goddaddy, the driver’s here. Let’s go.”

The whole family immediately surrounded her and hugged her excitedly, their faces filled with love.