Hell froze over. Picasso’s dad sent him a birthday card. He got it on Saturday. Only five days after the fact. Better late than never, right?
In all seriousness I was happy for him. I wasn’t here when he actually received it but from what my mother said he wasn’t very impressed. He did cash the check, though.
The card was his typical, “I love you so much,” schtick. I try not to criticize. I know it’s preferable to him forgetting the child completely, but seriously? I’m supposed to give him credit because he managed to send a card to his only son on his birthday? Oh wait- he also gave him $100.
I swear to God, that man has a job again.
I took what limited funds I have and used it to take him out to dinner, buy him a small gift, and throw him a birthday party with his friends.
The mobster bought him a $100+ video game he’s been wanting (which doesn’t come out until September).
His sister bought him a pair of shorts and a shirt, took him out to lunch, and attempted to give him a driving lesson. “I could only stand 15 minutes. He’s horrible, Mom!” she told me afterwards.
His Nana bought him a birthday gift and went out to dinner with him, as did his aunt and uncle.
Sending a card and a check was the least his father could do. I refuse to blow sunshine up his ass and ooh and ah over the fact he managed to do the bare minimum.
I realize it may sound petty, or that I associate love with money, but this is a man who once had $5000 a month to blow on whatever he wanted. He had no bills. Just a whore and her mulligans. Not once did he slip his kids some extra money so they wouldn’t go without. He spent just as much on her kids at Christmas as he did his own. He never once offered to take them shopping for clothes or something frivolous. Every dime (and I do mean every dime- his bank account was down to $165 right before he had to finally start paying support) went to Harley the Whore and her kids.
I say again, however, that I am thankful he did not completely ignore the child. Plus, I think he managed to give both kids more for their birthdays this year than he ever has since our separation.
Hooray for Picasso. Hooray for both of my kids.