I was smug.
Middle? Adjusting great to preschool!
I would walk briskly out of his classroom, hand-in-hand with Baby, my purposeful strides a bit bouncy and lighthearted as my heart soared that mine wasn't one of those kids--the ones left clinging and crying--obviously NOT transitioning so well.
(You already know where this is going, right?)
On Tuesday? Middle FREAKED OUT when Hubby attempted the drop-off. He called me at work to inform me that it had taken him 15 minutes to get out the door and that his work shirt was dripping with snot.
So this morning, it was my turn for Middle's drop-off. I was cautiously optimistic--it could have been a one-time thing, right?
Uh, not so much.
Again, the FREAK OUT.
Clinging to my legs, head buried, not letting me go. Meanwhile, Baby was off digging in the sand table and playing trucks.
To top it off, the assistant teacher, who looks
So in order to get (the hell) outta there this morning, I literally had to peel Middle off my leg, sweep up Baby in my arms (who by that time was applying a glue stick to his lips as if it were chapstick), and make a run for it.
The sounds of Middle's shrieks echoing in my ears.
At those children I scoffed at for crying the first few weeks?
Totally content and happy to be there.
Man, karma is a bee-yotch.