17 February 2010


This week, we have entered the newest chapter in the book of our Life as Parents - Chapter XX, Daycare (Play Skool), Trials, Tribulations and...Who Knows What.

The night before day 1, no one slept. Why? Because Miss A kept crying. And crying. And crying. And when I finally got her to tell me why, she looked at me pitifully and said, "Pay skool, Mommy?" Aha! Anxiety. Of course. I reassured her that there would be fish. And slides. It worked.

Day 1 drop off went far more smoothly than expected. I got a hug. I got a kiss. I got a look that said, "When we get home, I'm peeing in your shoes," as I walked out the door.

At pick-up, I was rewarded with a loud and excited, "MOMMY!!!!" before I even opened the classroom door. I was tackled and then given a tour of every toy in the room. Twice.

Day 2? Ah. Here's where the lead in will make sense to some...

Last night, she slept well. She slept in the car on the way in too. She was excited about going when she woke up this morning. And when I dropped her off, she had the Tantrum From Hell. She screamed, "I WANT DADDY!!!" which is normal in this household and I'm OK with that.

She refused to hug or kiss me. She wailed. She sobbed. It was...awful.

I expected an overjoyed greeting today at pick up, especially in light of how badly the drop went. I envisioned her running to greet me and asking to go. I was actually upbeat and looking forward to hugs and kisses from my Little Bean, so much so in fact, that I double timed it through the center to her room with a notable spring in my step.

Instead, I was greeted by another baby, not (and this is important to note, my own) with a loud, "HI!" and a grin. A looked up from her activity (eating imaginary fish in a playhouse - don't ask) and said, "Oh! Mommy!" and went back to playing. I was told that she had been a "perfect little angel all day!" (and couldn't help but snort). To prove to her teacher that she was anything but, she refused to leave. "NO! NO HOME! NO HOME, MOMMY! I PLAY!!!" And then she ran off to another part of the room.

Suddenly, I understood how young Ralphie felt in A Christmas Story when his Little Orphan Annie Secret Decoder Ring finally came. Drink more Ovaltine indeed.

What's your favorite memory involving your child and your own secret code moment?


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