My friend lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with her 4 year old and 13 year old (from her first marriage). The first time Sofia met her older son, she thought he was her 4 year old's daddy. Of course she did. Why wouldn't she?
Tonight, Sofia repeatedly asked where Connor's daddy was. I wasn't quite sure how to address this with my 3 year old, but Connor answered for me. "He lives in another house," he offered. No biggie. This is as normal as breathing to him as they've been separated since he was two years old.
On the drive home, Sofia asked why Connor's daddy lives in a different house. I hemmed and hawed, then just said "Because that is where he needs to be," or something equally vague.
She was quiet for a minute, then asked when Connor's daddy had "Gone away." I explained that he didn't go away, just lived in a different house and assured her that Connor sees him often. She then asked if we'd ever go visit Connor at his daddy's house. I paused, then said "Probably not."
She then asked why my friend had 5 cars. Apparently, she thought my friend's apartment carport was her garage, entirely. Why would she know what an apartment was? She's never been to one. I had never even thought about it from her perspective.
It was then that I realized how different a childhood my little one is having compared to my own. By her age, my parents had already been divorced for 3 years. I never knew kids with normal, married parents growing up. Most of my friends were latchkey kids, living in apartments with single parents. I know that as time goes on, Sofia will learn what divorce means, will have friends in single parent families, but for now, I want to feel all warm and fuzzy that my little one is mostly innocent with regard to the ways of the mommies and daddies and different living arrangements.
No comments:
Post a Comment