I am struggling with The Mayor who is two.
I am counting to three.
Counting to three.
"If you don't climb down from your carseat like a big kid by the time I count to three, I'm going to have to pick you up and get you out like a baby. One...Two..."
Luckily, he's found real inspiration lately in doing things the BIG KID way, but there are so MANY simple actions that need negotiation. There's counting for walking in or out of a door, getting in the car, coming to the table, getting in the tub... Oh. The. Endless. Counting. To. Three.
I can't believe I'm counting to three.
The hardest part of the day is dropping him off at daycare. For weeks he held on to me saying, "I want to hold you. I need you." and cried when I left.
Just recently I discovered that if I stage a big "WAVING BYE BYE" event, he doesn't cry. If the kids are inside when I leave, I take him to the window, head out and wave like crazy while he waves back. I walk backwards, blow kisses and wave until I am out of sight. There haven't been any tears all week.
The other morning, my tearless boy was standing in the play yard, nose pressed against the fence, maniacly yelling, "BYE MOM!" when he suddenly and for the first time ever added,
"I LOVE YOU, MOM!
I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!"
Look! Here is one of the lambs now...
I really wanted to stop in my tracks, to breathe it in, because I've been second fiddle for a long, long time and this kind of two year old love talk is usually reserved for Daddy when he gets out of the car to catch the commuter train.
I didn't stop though.
I kept heading for the car because, as all working moms know, if you've got a tearless daycare drop-off process working smoothly you can't muck about with it or there will be a great wailing.
But I did sit in my car, and slowly count to three, smiling.