I went to Idaho to visit my parents for Christmas. I did not stay in Chicago because Ljubica had the kids for almost the entire break (December 23–January 3). I also had not seen my parents in a year, and, well, quite frankly the entire past year sucked. I needed to get away from Chicago.

Anyway, I took the train there and back. I arrived back in Chicago on December 29. I had to leave the next morning to visit a friend in New England. My train was scheduled to arrive in Chicago at 3:12 PM on the 29th—ample time to take the kids out for dinner—if Ljubica were to be willing to allow me to see them. (It was her day.)

So I sent her an email: “Ljubica, if I get home early enough, I would like to take the kids out to dinner on Thursday night.” Unfortunately, my train was eight hours late. I did not get home until 11:40 PM. Even if Ljubica had said yes (she didn’t) to taking the kids out to dinner, it would not have worked out. I sent her a follow-up email, “Never mind. My train is 8 hours late; I won’t be able to take the kids out.”

I got home. I went to bed. I got up early. I went to the airport. I flew to Boston.

Agnes called me on Friday. “Dad,” she asked, “when are you going to pick Ivan and me up to go out for dinner? Mom said you were taking us out tonight….”

Thank you, Ljubica, for lying to our daughter. Thank you for misleading her. Thank you for setting me up to disappoint her.

I get the kids tomorrow at 9:00 AM. I haven’t seen them in ten days—the result of Ljubica’s request to have the kids over Christmas and New Year—ostensibly to visit family in Bosnia. We arranged and agreed on the dates in mid-November. My last email on the subject stated, “I will have the children from 9:00 AM on January 3…. Are we in agreement?” Her response: “yes.”

So Ljubica went and set up a playdate with Agnes’s friend for tomorrow. Agnes called. She spoke with uncertainty in her voice, “Dad, are you getting us tomorrow…?” (I’d been telling her for days that I’d see her on Tuesday.) “Yes,” I said. “Well…,” her voice trailed off. “Mom made a playdate for me for tomorrow with one of my friends, but I guess it’s okay if I don’t go….” The disappointment in her voice was palpable.

I didn’t know what to say. I told her I would call her back. Then I phoned her friend’s mother, who didn’t answer, and then her father, who also didn’t answer. I left a message: “This is Agnes’s dad. There’s been a misunderstanding. Apparently, Ljubica set up a playdate for our daughters for tomorrow, but tomorrow is my day with the kids. I can still bring Agnes over, though. Just let me know.”

I called Agnes back. “Hi beautiful! I left a message with your friend’s dad. I’m waiting to hear back from him. Maybe you can still see your friend tomorrow.” Agnes’s voice perked up. She seemed glad that she might still see her friend.

Then Ljubica got on the phone. “What are you doing calling her friend’s dad? You don’t need to do that! You don’t need to call anyone. And it’s your fault, anyway. I can just reschedule the playdate for Saturday, when I have the kids. And besides, there never was a playdate planned for tomorrow. Agnes misunderstood. She overheard me talking to her friend’s mom. She didn’t know what was going on. So don’t call anyone. Okay? You don’t need to talk to those people.”

Thank you again, Ljubica, for lying to our daughter. Thank you for misleading her. Thank you for setting me up to disappoint her.

Oh, and you’re welcome for that time in November when I let you take Agnes out all night so that you could go to that ethnic festival with her—even though it was my day.

Oh, and you’re welcome for that time in December when I let you take Agnes out all afternoon so that you could take her to the ballet—even though that was my day, too.