War Games

I am shocked when I get, in reply, an email that is none of those things.

Lars admits what I already knew: Liza is not going to Florida any more than I am going to the moon. Yoga, pet care concerns, blah blah blah blah blah, yakkety yakkety yakkety.

Pledges his flexibility. He will "work with me" to help work out a nice surprise for Patrick. He'll even use his connections to help me obtain coveted, hard-to-get tickets. He'll help cover the cost of the Orioles tickets, but even so, he is so sure Pat will understand and appreciate the effort. (Yes, because you so often hear 13 year olds the world over exclaim, "Thanks for the effort, Mom!") Back pedal, back pedal, back pedal. Kiss ass, kiss ass, kiss ass.

He also claims to not want to fight. (Of course he doesn't. This is for sure a check in the L column for him if he doesn't quell the fire and brimstone I've got cooking. )

He further claims, consistent with his Parent of the Year Grand Illusion, that he will be constantly supervising the children, and there will be no risk to them while he is in class.

An idiot says what?

I wait to respond. I call my pediatrician who has ridden the roller coaster of divorce with us all and has watched much of our life fly into pieces in his very office space. He is acutely aware of all the family dynamics and what my children are mature enough to handle and what is asking too much. I ask him to give me his frank opinion on the trip the children are about to embark upon with Lars.

He tells me, in as direct terms as possible, that given their relative maturity levels, their somewhat naive approach to the vicissitudes of life, and their propensity to bicker, argue, squabble and even fist fight over things as minor as who has controlled the clicker too long, they should not be subjected to this particular pressure to conform, and can not be reasonably expected to rise to the occasion if pushed beyond their limits simply because "it's convenient for Lars."

I thank the good doctor for his honesty, and he reminds me that no one goes off to college with a black eye from their sister, and I take to my e-mail.

"Lars, I have spoken with the kids' pediatrician and he agrees that leaving the children, for all the reasons I've raised, is a very bad idea and too big a risk, even if you only intend to leave them for a few hours at a time."

And continue with:

Please confirm that you have made babysitting arrangements through the hotel or by having someone accompany you on the trip. Otherwise they should fly home with an airline escort when your classes begin."

Closed with:

"Please advise at once."

I refrain from writing "or your ass is grass" or something similar. I think he knows that.

But what he writes back is simply, "OK."

Could it really have been this easy?

I am skeptical.