[He's driving, yes, but we're still working on lines of communication.]
Monday and Tuesday were two of the worst school drop-offs we've had in over a year. By Tuesday I was a little prepared, but on Monday when the Kid started clinging to my leg, I was caught so off-guard that I almost started crying myself. (Bless his darling teacher who jumped in so I could slip away before making the situation worse!)
Wednesday I walked in ready for anything. But the Kid calmly took his boots and hat off, and walked into his classroom without even turning around.
Sweet Husband timidly texted, "Drop-off today?"
I wrote back, "Walked in like a champ, barely even said goodbye. I think he's trying to make me crazy."
He peed on the potty. In this house, the established custom is that behavior earns a small treat. But when he asked for a chocolate chip downstairs a few minutes later, my mind hadn't quite made the connection.
"No, buddy, we don't eat chocolate chips before dinner," I rattled off by rote with my back to him.
I turned to look. His bottom lip trembled, as the sweetest tear gathered in the corner of his eye and then fell.
"But I peed on the potty," he quietly sobbed.
"Oh baby, I'm so sorry--of course you did! Mama's so, so sorry. Here let's get you a chocolate chip."
I scooped him up as I reached for the bag in the freezer.
"You've just gotta help me out here with remembering sometimes, bub. Sometimes mamas need some help."
The Kid: Mama, I want you to lay in bed with me.
Me: No, I'm just going to sit here on the floor and knit while you fall asleep.
The Kid: But, it's too cold on the floor. I want you to come be warm with me.
As I set my knitting aside and slipped under his blankets, I was well aware of how I had just been played. But what would you have done?