So, I realized that it's been almost a month since I tearfully left my dear baby boy in his daycare class with both of us sobbing from the separation. The teacher told me yesterday that he finally decided to eat his lunch (until now, 1000s of cookies per day was the best they could get him to swallow) and he was playing when we picked him up. Yay!
It was so much easier to leave him today. Don't get me wrong, now. When I walked out the room, he scurried his chubby feet to the door as fast as he could. And was making that pre-crying noise that promised to turn into something more any second. I had to make a quick get-a-way. But I spied through the window just a few minutes later and he was in his chair eating breakfast like a big boy. No crying or whining or anything. They tell me that he blossoms in the afternoon. I'm just going to charge that to my husband, who is nobody's morning person. In fact, neither is my daughter, who , about 3 mornings a week, informs me that no she will not be using the potty and no, she does not want to wash her face, and she doesn't like her tootbrush and she wants to go back to bed.
I'm so glad that it's getting better. He's such a sweet and funny boy; I want him to have a good time. And I want the teacher to stop dreading his entrance in the morning. But for now, I'll just be grateful that he's having productive, tearless afternoons. That means that I'm also having productive, tearless afternoons. Well, tearless anyway. Yay for us!
1 day ago