According to your dad, who drops you off and picks you up, you're really taking to the whole idea of day care. Or, as I like to call it, "School."
I didn't know how much you were enjoying it until Tuesday morning, when I woke you up and said, "You get to go to school today!" I sang, "Gonna go plaaay at schooool!" and your eyes went wide and you clapped, as if you'd just been promised a frozen yogurt. After you were dressed, your dad went outside without you, just to start the car, and all of a sudden there was Hell to pay. Thinking that your dad was leaving for Super Awesome Play Place without you, you screamed and wailed and carried on until he came back in and got you.
Yesterday, you decided that you would NOT be overlooked, so as soon as you were dressed, you camped out by the front door.
Incidentally, I wish we could train your dad's LUNCH to do this, since it gets left behind at least twice a week, and now your dad's co-workers probably think he has a sorry wife who never feeds him.
This morning, I carpooled into town with your dad, so I was the one to walk you into school. You threw the door open, hustled inside and started climbing into your chair at the breakfast table. No tears, no wave goodbye. Lesson learned: Mom becomes invisible in the presence of doughnuts. The teacher said, "We like to wait for Laney before we have breakfast." Lord, no wonder you like the place so much. I know I'd like to walk into a business establishment and immediately be greeted with pastries n' hugs.
Usually, when your dad and I drop you off or put you down for a nap, we promise, "We won't do anything fun without you." This morning, that was a total lie because as soon as we'd dropped you like a hot brick, we went to Cracker Barrel for breakfast. Your dad and I figured out that breakfast this morning was the first time we'd been out of the house alone together since last October. Nothing says rekindled romance like grits.
Someone should put that in a country song.
Love,
Mom
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