Damned if I do, damned if I don't

After I did my workout at the gym yesterday (and I only ache a little bit in my arms and shoulders, nowhere near as bad as I thought I'd be) I went to pick up my son to spend the afternoon with him. I got some instructions from my ex. "If you take him to McDonald's for lunch, get him fish fingers, not chicken. He can have the chicken at KFC or Burger King though. And no toys, no matter how much of a tantrum he throws. Also, make sure he gets some fresh air." When I asked why he couldn't have the chicken at McDonald's she said something about the additives in it. Like the others are going to be any better?

So come lunchtime we go to the local McDonald's. He gets himself a table, and I join the queue, which fortunately only has two or three people in it. I wait, and wait. I wait some more. There's only one till open. This is in a fast food restaurant, at 1:30 on a Saturday. I turn around and look at the queue behind me. It's stretching out of the door now. I look at the menu over the counter. It says you can have chicken nuggets or chicken strips in a Happy Meal. No mention of fish fingers, so I guess the real reason my ex didn't want him having a Happy Meal was because of the toy. She thinks I spoil him too much, and to be fair he does pester me for a toy every time I see him. He needs to learn that I love him even though I don't shower him with gifts every day. It's his birthday in a couple of weeks (6 years already! Where does the time go? and he'll be getting lots of toys and presents then). Eventually I get to the front of the queue. "I'll have fish fingers and fries please, with a fruit juice." "Sorry, we don't do fish fingers."

Fuck this for a game of soldiers. I stormed out, dragging my upset son behind me. "We'll go to a different McDonald's, we'll get you some fish fingers". He calmed down after a minute or so, and we got back in the car. Ten minutes later, we arrive at the second McD's of the day. Guess what? That's right, they don't do fish fingers either.

Fifteen minutes after that, and we're at KFC. He can have the chicken nuggets there, so no problem. They do a deal with the kids meals where you can choose to have a dessert instead of a toy, so bearing in mind my ex's instructions, that's what I get him. He throws a (mild) tantrum when he finds out there's no toy. "I'm not eating anything unless you get me a toy". "Calm down, eat your dinner." "I'm not calming down until you get me a toy". He whines and whinges, but it's only half-hearted. So are the punches, kicks, pinches and scratches. I'm not giving in to him, I'm hugging him, wiping away his tears and telling him to calm down. After five minutes he suddenly reaches over, grabs one of my french fries and eats it with a mischevous grin on his face. "Oi! That was mine you little devil, eat your own!" He's laughing his head off by now, tantrum over. We finish our "meals" in peace. He enjoys every last mouthful of his dessert. He's forgotten all about the toy, and doesn't hold it against me. Near the end of the meal he picks up the KFC bag and says "let me see what toy I would have got". No more tears, no more tantrums.

The KFC is three-quarters of the way back to his flat, so I'm not driving him all the way back to my house just for an hour. We go and visit my aunt, and play on the swings and slides in the park opposite her house.

I thought I did very well. I gave my ex her child support money when I picked him up, so she wasn't waiting for it. I complied with all the instructions - no chicken at McDonald's, no toys, and some fresh air. I also bought him a warm winter sweater because he'd come out in just a tee-shirt (and his coat) and it's chilly in my house. I took him back thinking I was going to be in her good books for once.

This morning at twenty past eight I get a phone call from my ex. The conversation goes something like this:
Her: "He tells me you didn't get him a toy because I told you not to?"
Me: "That's right"
Her: "That was only for supermarkets and stuff. Of course he can have the toy that comes with his meal, that doesn't count."
Me: "Well you should have told me that."
Her: "Do I have to be that specific?"
Me: "Apparently, yes, you do."

Some days you're the windshield and some days you're the bug.