One for the Books

With our nanny enjoying a two-week vacation and MLW away on business, this turned out to be a historic week. Since I had precious little vacation time remaining, I needed to juggle daytime care for the beach ghostlette, and this was accomplished via assistance from a vast number of family members.

However, this past Friday I had to do something that neither MLW or I had ever had to do before--put the beach ghostlette in day care. So what, right? Well, the little one is now 3, and has never had the day care experience before. More importantly, neither have her parents.

So, I leave the house with the toddler (late, of course) and walk down to the waterfront where the center is. We get in and there are three women and about four kids who are already there. We had been telling the little one that she was going to "pre pre-school," so her initial reaction we entered was to walk around and take a look at everything. Although she appeared a bit tentative, her expression seemed to indicate that "hey, this ain't so bad."

I stayed with her for about 10 minutes, getting all her stuff put away, leaving instructions for the aides, helping the little one use the toilet, what have you. Just before I left I gave some dried cranberries and waved goodbye, watching as she sat at the table and munched on her snack. I realized I had forgotten my bag about a minute later (paging Dr. Freud), but when I looked at her again she was still chewing away, looking as if she hadn't yet decided whether this was all a good or bad thing. I could have watched her for another hour, but I was already late for work, and I knew me standing there wasn't going to helpful.

My mother-in-law picked her up shortly after noon and reported that the mini-BG had been on her best behavior and had enjoyed herself immensely. I'd not really doubted it, since she has already been establishing her independence.

But I've got to admit, that somewhere deep, deep down--perhaps only a little bit--my heart was breaking.