I divorced my ex when our son, Mario, was six. I had primary custody but shared time with his dad because it was the right thing to do for Mario. My ex eventually remarried a woman we’ll call Peach—a homophobic “Christian” who turned out to be a nightmare.
Peach was cruel to Mario, outright telling him she couldn’t love him unconditionally as her stepchild. This crushed him. It took years of support and healing to help Mario recover. While Peach occasionally feigned kindness, her behavior always reverted to hostility. Despite this, Bowser, my ex, remained Mario’s dad, and for Mario’s sake, we all went to therapy. Things improved briefly but inevitably worsened again. I grew to absolutely despise Peach.
When Mario was eight, he was recognized as Citizen of the Month for his entire grade. He was so proud and was set to receive the award at a school assembly. The auditorium was packed with parents and families. Bowser couldn’t make it, so Peach came to “represent” their side.
I, as Mario’s biological mom, sat next to Peach to show a united front of support for my son. When Mario was called to the stage, he was beaming with excitement, dancing his way up to receive his award. He ran off stage, clearly coming to hug me first. But Peach stepped in front of me and intercepted him for a hug. Mario looked confused but went along with it.
I. Was. Livid.
Thankfully, the universe blessed me with quick thinking. After Mario hugged me, I immediately turned to Peach, gave her a hug, and then kissed her on the lips. Loudly, for everyone to hear, I said, “I am so proud of our son!”
Peach turned fifty shades of red. The parents in our section of the auditorium were wide-eyed, having just witnessed two women hug and kiss. Mario, blissfully unaware, didn’t think much of it. But I was elated. It was the perfect way to embarrass her and reclaim the moment for Mario.
That was ten years ago, and I still giggle at the memory of my epic act of petty revenge.
TL;DR:
My son received an award at school, and his homophobic stepmother tried to intercept his celebratory hug. So, I hugged her, kissed her on the lips, and loudly proclaimed my pride for “our son” in front of everyone.
