I Thought Keeping the Peace with My Ex Was Best for Our Son. His New Girlfriend’s Insults Proved Me Wrong.
When my ten-year-old son took the microphone at his school fall fair, I thought he was about to show everyone the pumpkin cupcakes we’d baked together.
Then I saw my ex-husband’s girlfriend grab his arm.
“Make him stop!” Annabelle whispered.
Nigel looked confused.
“He’s just showing pictures.”
But Annabelle seemed to understand what those pictures could reveal before I did.
And judging by her expression, she was terrified of what Dustin might show next.
—
A week earlier, Dustin had come home from his father’s house with a question I wasn’t prepared to answer.
“Mom, do you think your clothes are ugly?”
I was cutting fabric for his pumpkin costume.
“That’s an interesting question. What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Annabelle says you dress like you’ve given up.”
I put down my scissors.
Annabelle was Nigel’s new girlfriend. They’d been dating for several months, and lately Dustin had been returning from their weekends unusually quiet.
“What else has she said?”
Dustin pulled at a loose thread on his sleeve.
“She said you have terrible taste in clothes. Last weekend she asked Dad how he stayed married to you for so long.”
“What did your dad say?”
“He laughed.”
I looked at the orange fabric spread across our table.
At 35, I worked full-time, raised a growing boy, and handled most things myself. I wasn’t particularly concerned about impressing Annabelle.
But I was concerned about Dustin hearing those comments.
I pulled out the chair beside me.
“Listen, sweetheart. You shouldn’t have to hear people making fun of either parent.”
“Then why does Dad let her?”
I couldn’t answer for Nigel.
But I could speak to him.
—
After Dustin went to bed, I called.
“Annabelle needs to stop insulting me around Dustin.”
Nigel sighed.
“Becca, she has a strange sense of humor.”
“Dustin isn’t finding it funny. He shouldn’t dread having dinner with you.”
There was a pause.
“I’ll speak to her. Promise.”
I hoped he meant it.
—
Three days later, Annabelle approached me at school pickup. She’d come to drop off a pair of sneakers that Dustin had left behind.
“Nigel mentioned you’re helping with the fall fair.”
“Dustin’s class has a pumpkin booth.”
“I thought I could buy decorations and help with the display.”
I hesitated.
“Really? We could all help!” Dustin said.
He looked so excited that I agreed.
“All right. But the children’s decorations need to stay.”
“Of course, Becca.”
Annabelle glanced at my cardigan.
“I’ll make sure everything looks presentable.”
I decided to give her a chance.
—
Annabelle arrived at the volunteer meeting with photographs of expensive decorations she’d ordered.
“You’re organizing the booth?” another parent asked.
“Pretty much,” Annabelle replied.
“We’re sharing the work,” I said. “I’m baking the cupcakes and helping with setup.”
Annabelle laughed.
“Of course. You’re handling the food, Becca. That’s very on-brand.”
She pointed at the children’s paper pumpkins.
“Those won’t match my decorations. We should leave them off.”
“No. The children made those.”
“They look cheap.”
“They’re made from construction paper, Annabelle. They’re staying.”
She didn’t argue.
—
On Saturday, Dustin and I baked pumpkin cupcakes.
He insisted each one needed seven chocolate chips.
“Four would be enough,” I told him.
“Seven looks better.”
I handed him the chocolate chips.
“Then you’d better get started.”
While we worked, Dustin took photographs with my phone. His teacher had invited students to make presentations about the fair and agreed to review Dustin’s finished slideshow.
“Please leave out the picture where I dropped the frosting,” I said.
He grinned. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Later we tried on our homemade pumpkin costumes. Mine was round, orange, and crooked around one shoulder.
“We look ridiculous,” I said.
“That’s why they’re so good!”
I remembered Annabelle’s comments.
“Are you sure you want me wearing this?”
“Mom, we made them together.”
“Then we’re wearing them together.”
He hugged me.
“It’s my favorite thing we’ve made.”
I kissed his forehead.
Then his expression changed.
“Mom, why don’t you tell Annabelle to stop?”
“I’ve spoken to your dad about it, honey.”
“But she keeps doing it.”
I sat beside him.
“You’re right. I need to handle it differently.”
“Will Dad get mad?”
“That’s something your dad and I will deal with. You don’t have to fix it.”
Dustin nodded, although he didn’t look convinced.
—
We arrived at the fair early on Sunday morning.
While Dustin arranged the cupcakes, I noticed the children’s paper pumpkins were missing.
I found them in a box beneath the table.
Annabelle was adjusting her orange banner.
“Why did you put these away?”
“They made everything look cluttered.”
“The children made them, Annabelle. They’re staying.”
I attached them along the table.
A teacher approached.
“Oh, wonderful! The children were asking where those went.”
Annabelle stepped aside.
Minutes later I overheard her claiming she’d organized most of the display.
“Annabelle bought the extras,” I corrected. “The children made these, and we all helped set up.”
She gave me an irritated look.
—
Around noon, Nigel arrived.
“Dad!” Dustin called.
Nigel hugged him.
“Look at you! That’s quite a costume.”
“Mom made us matching ones!”
Nigel turned toward me.
Before he could speak, Annabelle looked me up and down.
“With your figure, that pumpkin costume suits you perfectly, Becca!”
Nigel burst out laughing.
Then he pulled Annabelle close and kissed her.
Several parents glanced toward us.
Dustin didn’t laugh.
“That’s mean, Annabelle,” he said.
Nigel frowned.
“Watch your tone, Dustin.”
I stepped forward.
“He’s allowed to tell you when something hurts him.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes.
“It was a joke.”
“Then explain what was funny about it.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Nigel frowned.
“Becca, can we not do this here?”
“You brought it here, Nigel. Dustin and I were enjoying ourselves.”
I turned toward my son.
“Come on. Let’s see how many cupcakes we’ve sold.”
He followed me, but his smile had disappeared.
—
Shortly before the awards, I spotted Annabelle speaking to the principal near the stage.
“I wanted everything to look special,” she said. “So I took care of practically the whole booth.”
I walked over.
“Actually, the class made most of the decorations. Annabelle bought the extras, and Dustin and I baked the cupcakes.”
Annabelle’s smile faded.
“Do you have to correct everything I say, Becca? Give it a rest.”
“When you’re taking credit for other people’s work, yes.”
Nigel appeared beside her.
“You’re embarrassing Annabelle.”
“You laughed when she embarrassed me. Why is it suddenly a problem?”
Before he could answer, the principal called everyone toward the stage.
Dustin’s teacher announced that it was time for the short presentations about the booths.
My son climbed onto the stage and took the microphone.
“I want to show everyone something.”
He handed his flash drive to the teacher at the computer.
The first photograph showed Dustin and me buying ingredients.
Then came our cupcakes, the handmade decorations, and the booth nearly finished before Annabelle’s decorations were added.
Parents smiled as the photographs changed.
Annabelle stared at the screen.
She grabbed Nigel’s arm.
“Make him stop!”
Nigel frowned.
“He’s just showing pictures.”
“But I’m not in any of them, Nigel!” she said through gritted teeth.
Then another photograph appeared.
It showed me hanging the children’s decorations while Annabelle’s purchased items were still in their bags.
Dustin spoke into the microphone.
“Annabelle bought some really nice things for our booth.”
He paused.
“But my mom helped make almost everything else. She baked with me, made our costumes, and helped the class.”
A photograph appeared of me sewing his costume.
“She says it doesn’t matter who gets the credit, but I think people should get thanked when they work hard.”
My throat tightened.
Then Dustin looked toward me.
“Mom also tells me not to make fun of people, even if somebody else thinks it’s funny.”
He lowered the microphone slightly.
“I wanted everyone to see how much she helped.”
The audience applauded.
I clapped with them, wiping my cheeks.
I was proud of him.
But my ten-year-old son had spent his school fair worrying about how other people treated me.
That wasn’t something I wanted him carrying.
Dustin hurried over.
“Did you like it, Mom?”
“I loved it, sweetheart.”
He hugged me, but Annabelle interrupted us.
“You knew he was planning that!”
“I knew about the slideshow. I hadn’t seen the finished version.”
Nigel stepped beside her.
“Was this your idea, Becca? Did you put him up to it?”
Dustin pulled away from me.
“Mom didn’t tell me what to say.”
Nigel frowned.
“You shouldn’t have to choose sides, Dustin.”
“He’s not choosing sides,” I said. “And we’re not having this conversation in front of him.”
I turned to Dustin.
“Could you ask your teacher to keep the flash drive? I’ll meet you at the booth.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“Of course not. Go on, sweetheart.”
His teacher waved him over. I watched him reach her before facing Nigel.
“Come outside. We need to talk.”
—
We stepped through the side doors. Annabelle followed.
Nigel spoke first.
“Everyone knew Dustin was talking about Annabelle.”
“He thanked her for what she did, Nigel. He didn’t insult her.”
Annabelle folded her arms.
“He made me look like a terrible person!”
“You insulted me in front of him, Annabelle. Nigel laughed. What did you expect him to think?”
Nigel rubbed his forehead.
“I don’t want Dustin caught between us.”
“Neither do I. That’s why I called you last week. He’s been coming home upset.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Then listen to him, Nigel. Don’t tell him how he should feel.”
I turned toward Annabelle.
“And don’t blame Dustin for your embarrassment. He showed people what we made. If you’re going to be in his life, you need to respect me.”
Nigel nodded.
“I’ll handle it.”
“I hope you do. Dustin deserves better.”
I went back inside to collect my son.
We still had game tickets, and I wasn’t letting their argument ruin the rest of his fair.
—
Dustin won a stuffed fox at ring toss, then laughed when I missed every throw.
As we headed toward the exit, he asked, “Are you upset about my slideshow?”
“No, sweetheart. I loved it.”
“Then why did you and Dad go outside?”
“We had something to discuss. I didn’t want you listening to another argument.”
“Did I make Annabelle angry?”
“Her feelings aren’t your responsibility, Dustin.”
“I just wanted people to know you did the work.”
I stopped beside him.
“I’m glad you’re proud of what we made. But you don’t have to defend me. That’s my job.”
He nodded.
“Can we take a picture in our costumes?”
We asked his teacher to take one. Dustin stood beside me, proudly holding his fox.
—
That evening, Nigel called after Dustin went to bed.
“Annabelle cried on the way home.”
“Dustin was upset too.”
“She thinks you encouraged him.”
“His teacher approved the slideshow. Dustin chose the pictures and prepared his speech.”
Nigel sighed.
“Could you ask him to apologize? It might help everyone move forward.”
“No. Dustin isn’t responsible for making Annabelle feel better about her own behavior.”
“She thinks he was taking sides.”
“He thanked me for our work, Nigel. That’s not choosing sides. And I won’t make him apologize for it.”
Nigel was quiet.
“He asked whether he’d made her angry. He’s worried about something that shouldn’t be his problem.”
“I shouldn’t have laughed at that costume joke.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“I didn’t realize he was this upset.”
“He tried telling you.”
Nigel exhaled.
“You’re right. I’ll apologize to him.”
“Then listen to him. And make sure Annabelle’s comments stop.”
“I’ll speak to her again.”
“Please make sure something changes.”
I ended the call, hoping he meant it.
—
The following weekend, Nigel arrived alone.
“Annabelle isn’t coming?” I asked.
“Not today. I want some time alone with Dustin.”
“And the comments?”
“I spoke to her. She still thinks we’re making too much of it.”
“What do you think?”
Nigel hesitated.
“I keep remembering Dustin’s face when I laughed. I should’ve listened sooner.”
I looked toward the house.
“Then tell him that.”
“I will.”
When Dustin came outside, Nigel crouched beside him.
“Before we go, there’s something I owe you.”
Dustin glanced at me.
“I laughed when Annabelle made those jokes about Mom,” Nigel said. “You told me they bothered you, and I didn’t listen. I’m sorry.”
Dustin studied his father’s face.
“Are you going to laugh next time?”
“No. And if something upsets you at my house, I want you to tell me.”
“Even if it’s about Annabelle?”
“Yes, son.”
I watched Dustin take his father’s hand.
It was a beginning. Nigel would have to show him he meant it.
—
Later that evening, Dustin called.
“Dad took me for pizza. We talked about the fair.”
“How did that go?”
“He said he was proud of my pictures. He asked if I wanted to show him the whole slideshow.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah. He liked the one of us wearing the costumes.”
I smiled.
“So did I.”
“Mom, can we print our picture from the fair?”
“Of course. Where should we put it?”
“On the refrigerator.”
—
The following afternoon, Dustin held the photograph while I found a magnet.
Our costumes were crooked, my hair was sticking out beneath my pumpkin stem, and Dustin was clutching his stuffed fox.
“Do you still think your costume looks ridiculous?” he asked.
“Completely. I might even wear it again.”
He laughed.
“Can we make something together for the winter fair?”
“I’d love that.”
“Even if people laugh?”
I took the photograph from him.
“Dustin, we wore those costumes because we loved making them. Nobody gets to spoil that for us.”
He smiled and pressed the magnet into place.
Then he leaned against me.
“I’m glad we matched, Mom.”
I wrapped my arm around him.
“So am I, sweetheart.”
For weeks, Dustin had worried about defending me.
Now he was planning our next project.
And when I looked at that photograph, I didn’t see the woman Annabelle had laughed at.
I saw a mother her son had never been embarrassed to stand beside.