Here’s how day care drop of goes: First, he smiles as we walk in. Then he remembers I’m about to abandon him and latches on with all his might. Next, he screams as I pry him from my arms and he claws to hang on, all while I’m trying to talk to Mama Cilla about how he slept, when he ate, etc. I can’t imagine a worse start to the workday, by the way, than peeling your child off of you and thrusting him at someone else as you run out the door. As he wails, Mama Cilla closes the door and I walk to my car, trying not to cry. By the time I get in and start to drive away, she opens it back up to show me that he is no longer screaming like a crazy person.
Monday, something changed. The door swung open again and I waved like always. And then? He waved back! I was so ecstatic, I almost ran into a tree. You would have thought he solved a Rubik’s cube. One-handed. And blindfolded.
And that’s how it is right now. Every day is something new. Tonight he started running his favorite toy along the bottom of the bathtub and became obsessed with it. He continued doing that with every other toy he came in contact with until he passed out right on schedule, exhausted from all the frantic synapse building.
I’m such a cliche, right? I’m all he’s so smart and he’s growing up too fast and where did my baybeeee go and do other babies whack themselves in the junk with toys, should we be concerned?