Hard Bits To Swallow

My thirteen year old tells me he doesn't want to come for Christmas.
First conversation since Halloween and I initiated it.
And he says, "Yeah, I don't think I'll come for Christmas soooo,
you can just put my $200 in the mail."

I was shocked and I was cooking supper.
I burned the pancakes on the virgin griddle.
Joe hugged me a lot and nuzzled my neck.
Then I took to my bed.

Upon awakening, I learned Willie had also had a turn of bad luck.
I hope we get our respective problems ironed out.
::Fist pump::