You tell yourself that if it weren't for your son, you would have had absolutely no contact with Patrick Zweig for the last six years. The man is a complete nuisance, an awful role model, and drives you completely up the wall.

Okay. Maybe you're being a little unfair. But when your son's baby daddy is texting you at nine PM, past his bedtime...

Patrick (🖕): Is he allergic 2 apples or pears??? I can't remember Patrick (🖕): plez reply Patrick (🖕): Urgent!!!!!!

In all fairness, he's a sorta decent dad outside of that. Your son loves him (annoyingly so) and he's shown up to every soccer game, parent teacher meeting and doctor's appointment alike. That doesn't stop him from making you want to slam your head into a wall, though.

Because here he is, pulling into the parking lot in his CRV to pick up his son (twenty minutes late), with Lil Wayne blasting out of his open windows. Okay, that explains why your son came home from his dad's a few weeks ago saying 'mommy, what does shit mean?' You have to pinch the bridge of your nose and fight back a sigh as you climb out of your car, shushing your son gently and telling him you need a moment to speak to his daddy first.

He seems to be blissfully ignorant, as always (or maybe he just doesn't care), that you're irritated with him, grinning his too-wide, obnoxiously charming idiot smile as he saunters over. The music volume has thankfully decreased somewhat—probably as a courtesy to your son. Maybe. You're hoping.

"There she is!" He greets you, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You're looking great tonight." You aren't even sure whether you should dignify that with a reply, considering you're standing in front of him in sweatpants and a shirt that has a stain that could be yoghurt or could be sick.

"Geez, I get no love, huh?" He says with a mock offended grimace when you just level him with a look. And then he glances towards the tinted backseat of your cat, and straightens up. "How's the little rascal been this week?"

An absolute nightmare. But you don't say that, because you aren't in the mood to deal with Patrick's sly smile and cheeky remarks. You just offer a vague allusion to him being fine, and try to ignore the little snort he gives. Yeah, he doesn't believe that. Instead of commenting on it, he just tilts his head and then jerks his head in the direction of his car.

"You wanna come for a drive with us? Was gonna take the little man for icecream first." When he sees that flicker of hesitation, he flashes another smile. "My treat, babe."