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Rough Mornings

Sam’s been at a new school since the first of November, and while for the most part everything is going great, ever since we’ve been back from Christmas break, he’s been having a rough time at drop off. He’s such a creature of habit that when there’s a slight change in routine, which there’s bound to be, he is not a fan. In the mornings and afternoons, a lot of times his class will merge with the class across the hall, because there aren’t a ton of kids there. He does NOT like that at all. And if that merge takes place in the morning and I’m not dropping him off in his regular classroom? It’s bad.

He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t pitch a fit… he just doesn’t want me to leave. He clings to my leg. His lip quivers. And though he moves past it pretty quickly, I’m having a hard time doing the same.

It’s not the way to start the day, for either one of us.

I’m not sure what to do, though, other than to ride it out. However, I am open for suggestions. Any words of wisdom from the other moms out there?

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School Days

This week, Sammy started at a new daycare. He’s been in an in-home daycare setting since he was about four months old, and while it was a great situation for him, we thought he was ready to hit the big leagues. That, and a spot opened up for him, which is always an important consideration when determining “readiness.”

The new daycare is located where I work, which is about 40 minutes from our house. So, I have a new carpool buddy!

I was a little concerned about having him in the car for so long every day, but we have had so much fun going to and from his new “preschool.” He is a chatty little thing, and I love hearing him talk and sing songs. I love picking him up – my favorite part of the day is when he runs up to me when I get there – and it’s great to talk to his teachers and hear about his day. Yesterday they were cracking up because he was talking about football and told them “The Bengals are really struggling.” It’s wonderful to have an extra hour and a half with him each day!

It’s only been a few days, and while I’m sure the novelty will wear off to some degree, he is absolutely loving it so far. And so am I!

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Big Boy

{You were hoping this post was going to be about Frisch’s, weren’t you? Mmmm… Frisch’s…}

Sammy has decided in the last week or so that he is a big boy. He doesn’t even want to hear the other “b” word.

“I not a baby, Mama. I a big boy.”

For the longest time, I’ve asked him whose baby he is (and, frustratingly, most of the time he replied “Daddy’s baby!”), but now he won’t even play along.

He’s even made me change the words to the lullaby we sing at night. “Rock a big boy” just doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

He is a big boy. He’s independent (and opinionated, omg. NO IDEA where he gets that one from. *ahem*). He’s potty trained. He’s busy. He is constantly playing something – the first thing he said to me yesterday morning was “Take off my jammies. I can’t play baseball in my jammies,” and at the end of the day, he didn’t want to go to bed, he wanted to play more “putball.”

But then there are moments like this morning, after I’d brought him to our bed hoping for a few more minutes of sleep. I looked at his face just inches from mine. He laid there sleeping so peacefully, sucking his thumb and clutching his beloved teddy bear, and I could hardly stand the sweetness. So innocent, so vulnerable.

He is a big boy. But he’s still so little.

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