Yesterday The Rock Star made me cry.
See, he and his "Papa" are like this. Well, alright, so you can't see hand signals but I'm crossing one of my fingers over another one to symbolize closeness. Or, rather, I was until I needed to resume typing. They're BFF. Peas in a pod. Potatoes and gravy. Peanut butter and jelly--except that both my dad and myself do not actually like peanut butter accompanied by jelly but that's really beside the point. Although it should be pointed out that for years I have preferred my peanut butter to be all alone on the bread and never knew, until about a month ago, that I inherited this bizarre trait from my father. Anyway...
My boy and his grandpa are close. For some reason, Garrett got it in his head yesterday that we were going to California to see beloved Papa. He kept telling me that we should go to the airport and "take a flight". While it always pulls my heartstrings when Garrett wants to go see my parents (and he thinks it is something we can just "do" and that it doesn't require a good deal of planning) it really got to me last night.
G: We going to the airport now?
Me: No, Honey. I told you that we can't visit Papa and Grandma today. (I'd like it to be noted that Troy and I do not use pet names for each other. We think we sound ridiculous if we even try. But I am constantly calling my sons things like "honey" and "sweetheart".)
G: But we could just go take a flight.
Me: No, Bud, we can't. It costs a lot of money to fly to Grandma and Grandpa's house.
G: We have money?
Me: (Kind of laughing at his innocence) No. We really don't.
G: We do right there. (He points at the coin jar on Troy's dresser.)
Me: Oh, Honey (pet name again) that's not even close to enough money to fly to Papa's.
G: It not?
Me: No. I'm sorry.
G: (Thinking for a second about how best to reduce his mother to tears. Then, with extreme excitement) I have money in my bank bank! I go get it!
Me: (Through tears) That is so sweet, but it's not enough either.
G: (Pointing to Troy's coin jar) With that monies too! (I was trying not to cry but I was still very proud of him for thinking about combining separate amounts of money to reach the desired goal.)
Me: It still wouldn't be enough.
G: Oh, no? We shake all the monies out of my bank bank. It come out the bottom. I show you. (He starts toward the door.)
Me: Garrett. I know you would spend all your money (this is a big deal, the boy is a miser) to go see Grandpa, but there isn't enough in your bank. I promise.
G: (completely degraded) Oh. Okay. Maybe soon.
Me: Maybe soon.
G: After my night night?
Sometimes I hate living away from family. What I hate even more is that my two year old really doesn't understand why he can't see his Papa whenever he pleases. Although, honestly, if he got to see him whenever he wanted to we'd be living with my parents and my dad would have a buddy everyday at work.