I think that may be the theme of the day. We rushed to get ready this morning. We rushed to get to school (after I went the wrong way…Mommybrain moment) and then once we got to school we rushed to say goodbye and get the Count acclimated. I rushed to fill out paperwork and write the check…and all I really wanted to do was make sure the Count was safe and comfy and happy and DRY. Did I mention we’re also rushing to potty train?

It was all just so surreal. We walked onto the playground and all these tiny people were everywhere. Running, crying, running more. Darting past you as you search for your son’s new classroom…wanting to get in early to make sure you told the teacher he has a change of undies and pants in his new tiny backpack. You don’t want to come off as neurotic mother #42 of the day, so you play it cool. Casually glancing for the Director of the place while trying to keep your toddler from exploding with excitement over all the toys on the playground. Finally, a familiar face…yes….this is the Count’s classroom. #3. #3 is a good number, right?

We stand outside the door for a moment. THAT one moment in the morning that made me want to scoop up the Count and take him back home where I knew he was safe and warm and dry. Despite all the kids, all the toys…for one split second our little man had second thoughts about this school thing. He jumped into his Daddy’s arms (because his mother’s were filled with cameras and checkbooks) and laid his head on his Daddy’s shoulder. UG. Run. Runway with him Daddy. Out the door. Out the gates. Back into the car….go, go home!

Daddy did the right thing. He carried him into classroom #3. Where The Count immediately spied some cars and jumped out of his Dad’s arms and played. He never looked back. I wanted him to look back. Oh how I wanted him to look back. But not our little man.

On my way out I peaked into #3…he was listening to Miss Debbie, his new teacher and potty helper. Actually sitting there listening. Actually sitting there…Actually listening. I rushed to get out of sight, for fear he’d see me and again change his mind. I rushed to the car. Rushed to put Princess in her car seat. I rushed to sit behind the wheel. Then, finally then…I slowed down. Took a deep breath. And cried. Just a little.


  1. How old is your son?

  2. He’s 2 1/2.

Speak Your Mind