I didn’t mean I was getting a divorce

I sent a text this morning to my son, the young man. This is how the conversation went:

Me: “Do you remember if Dad has a tool to cut my wedding ring off?” Note: In hindsight I probably should not have started the conversation like this.

Son: “This is not how you tell your kids you’re getting a divorce”. See above note.

Me: “lol”
Me: “I am having a problem with swelling and the ring has made my finger raw. I have tried to get if off with soap, olive oil and it won’t budge. I have a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday, so the ring has to come off”

Son: “I’ll cut it off”
Me: “You are not at home son”
Son: “Gen Gen too” (he’s referring to his sister, saying she can cut it off).
Son: “And yes, dad has a tool, just ask him where it is” Does he think I am going to cut the ring off myself? I’m pretty sure that would be a very bad idea. If I missed there would be blood everywhere, and I would faint.

Son: “Why are you asking me anyways, I’m 800 kilometres away?
Son: “Do you want me to fix the fridge too?” This is an ongoing joke in the family since we all tend to call my husband, their father (when he is at work) if something breaks or is just not working.

After my conversation had ended with my son, my husband finally answered my text, saying yes he can cut the ring off with his Dremel too.

This Friday is our 27th wedding anniversary, which will be celebrated with me driving to pick up middle child from college (a five-hour drive – there and back), then later that night, well 2 a.m. to be specific I will drive about an hour to pick up the young man somewhere on highway 401. That is what I am doing to celebrate my anniversary.