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I looked at him from across the room, sitting there, eating my food, every other word out of his mouth vicious and mean; my poor kids, so happy to see him and hurt at what is coming out of his mouth. To be happy or cry? They don't know what to do. I kicked him out of my house two months ago because, as much as we all loved him, he wasn't changing his ways and he was tearing us all apart inside. And yet here he is. I come home from work and find him sitting in my living room (which means he broke in again), eating food I can barely afford to put on the table, looks like cereal. As I stand in the kitchen, looking over at him, I can't help thinking, "How did this happen? Won't we ever be free of the same old crap again and again?" The more he talks, the madder I am getting.

Finally, my nerve reemerges; the backbone that I have paid so dearly for is finally kicking in. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE NOW!" I yell. He shouts back, "When I'm damn good and ready!" and takes another bite of cereal. It's the cereal, of all the stupid things, that is making me snap. All the times he didn't provide for us and I was afraid to leave the kids with him to go to work and now I am barely scraping by and he is eating our food, treating us like garbage. It is more than I can take. "GET OUT NOW OR I AM CALLING THE POLICE!" This is the first time that has ever come out of my mouth, though it ought to have many times before. He ignores me and continues eating and verbally abusing my poor son, who thought he was gone for good. I pick up the phone and dial 911. He hears me tell them he has broken into my home, is being verbally abusive, etc... He leaps up in a fit of anger. "You could have let me finish eating first!" and throws the cereal bowl at my face on his way out the door. OH does my cheek hurt, but it feels so good to see him back down and leave. My poor kids come running over, hugging me, making sure I am all right, when I just want them to be okay. I calm everyone down, fill out the police report when they come, calm everyone down again because now they are worried about what will happen to Daddy. Finally, I can start to clean up the cereal mess. As I pick up the bowl and spoon, I am thinking to myself, "What was I, crazy, to put up with that for so long? I must have been absolutely insane." And just as thought finishes, I look down at the cereal on the ground, and it FROOT LOOPS. -oh my god, is that a sign or what, I think, and start to giggle. Froot loops! It is too funny and I fall to the ground laughing so hard my cheek starts to hurt again. My stomach is hurting from laughing too much and still I can't stop. My kids don't know why I am laughing, I just keep saying, "Oh God, Froot Loops!" and cracking up again. My son gets it and starts laughing, too, and this is too much for the girls. They start laughing and we are all in this glorious pile on the floor laughing. Life can be so ironically funny and wonderful, that after such a horrible scene, we are here, laughing ourselves into stitches. I wonder to myself, if it had been Cheerios, would I have let him stay? And that is deliciously funny to me, too. Am I really so slow to learn that fate has to throw a bowl of Froot Loops at me to show me I have been nuts? Nowadays, it is mostly laughter in my house. Maybe he should have thrown Good Start. Lol.

Learn more about this author, Kelly Trickett.
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