These are the words I heard from my 6-year-old son. He was packing up, saying goodbye to his cat and asking me not to miss him.
His father and I hadn’t lived together in three years. During that time, it became clear that our marriage is no longer glued. Already gone are the resentments and intrigues, everyone got used to the fact that we have different roads. I burned all the bridges and started to arrange a new life.
When we were getting divorced my son was three years old. He was in touch with his father, he was okay with my new man and seemed to realize that mom and dad couldn’t live together. It wasn’t evident from Thomas’ behavior that he was suffering, worried. He was developing perfectly, pleased us with his successes and was always in a good mood.
And then there was this application. He decided to leave the family where he was loved, cared for and invested in everything. It seems that he was brought up according to Petranovskaya, not abused and implemented new pedagogical methods.
Yes, he could have a fight with a classmate or get wet in the swamp. But all boys did that. I never would have thought he could pack his bags and go to his father. I called my ex-husband and told him everything. He came quickly and took the baby away. As hard as it was for me, I got through the week without my beloved little blood.
While other moms rejoice in their freedom and temporary childlessness, I cried. When my son called and asked how much longer he could be with his daddy, I said:
– It’s your decision. As long as you want, be as long as you want.
But literally minutes later, I called him and asked him to come over because I miss him so much. The ex-husband packed up the baby and instantly brought him home. My son was crying and building up some unknown drama. I looked at him and couldn’t understand what was even going on. Even my favorite chips weren’t saving the situation.
It seemed to me that my child just didn’t love me, and I was forcing him to live with me. I wanted to make an appointment with a psychologist or psychiatrist to somehow resolve this situation.
In the morning he refused breakfast. The lump came up in my throat again. I went over to him and whispered:
– Is there anything I can help you with?
– I want you and Daddy to live together,” my son cried again.
– Honey, it’s impossible. We just do not love each other, but we love you very much.
– And whose fault is it that you separated? Я?
– No one’s fault, son. We’re just different, and it’s certainly not your fault.
He hugged me and exhaled. It was like he’d solved a math problem that had kept him up all night. Adults sometimes live through such difficult situations, and here was a child. Scared and confused. He blamed himself for our divorce the whole time and kept quiet. He was looking for his own reasons.
I’m glad I was able to talk to him and get to the bottom of his soul. Yes, it did not work the first time, but I managed to find the right words and reassure my son. A few good phrases brought down this wall of resentment, distrust, confusion. It dawned on me that my child is the same as before.
When your child asks something, don’t deny it, don’t start with higher math – just hear him. Just talk and listen, drawing conclusions.
