It’s nice to be able to point at a building and say “I’ve never physically been thrown out of there”
I’d love to tell you all about my daughter’s daycare facility, but I signed an agreement promising I wouldn’t. For the safety and security of the kids, the facility’s imposed some very sensible rules on what we can and can’t share online. Either that, or they’re just trying to do our friends a favour by sparing them a deluge of stories and photos.
I am allowed to tell you that my wife and I really like the place, and our daughter seems to love it. Sure, she cries her eyes out when we drop her off in the morning, but more experienced parents tell us that she’ll settle down before we know it. As it is, every day, she gets a little more relaxed.
The caregivers tell us that she cheers up once we’re gone, and that makes a lot of sense. She cries when my wife leaves for work in the morning, but only until something else distracts her. I’m sure the sooner I say goodbye and make myself scarce, the sooner she can start enjoying herself.
Mind you, knowing that and doing that are two different things. I know the best way to make my kid stop crying is to leave the building, but I’m still at a point where that goes against every fatherly “my daughter is crying” impulse I have. The caregivers know this, of course, and they’re always very subtle and polite when they inevitably have to nudge me out the door.
There’s going to come a day, sooner than I think, when my daughter can’t wait to see the back of me. I guess I might as well enjoy these clingy moments while I can. Not in a “savour her innocent tears” kind of way, but you know what I mean.
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