separation anxiety

Big D,

I'll sure be glad when Miss Shirley, your primary caregiver at school, comes back next week from her carpal tunnel surgery. The place is much more chaotic (especially in the morning) without her.

We arrived at school today to find half the kids in tears. You were okay when I set you down, but the room was too electrified and in just seconds you were melting down with the others.

After I finished labeling and putting away your food I sat down on the floor with you and let you sit in my lap for a while, where you were content to quietly watch the goings on. It's our typical book-reading position; Me sitting cross-legged and you plopped down in the well, feet dangling, facing the same direction.

Eventually you crawled off my lap and started playing. You didn't go far. And I stayed where I was, for a while envying the other adults who got to spend the day here. I tried to sneak out of the room when you weren't looking, but you heard my voice when I answered someone's question about which clipboard your daily status sheet should be attached to.

You scrambled over and grabbed the bars of the gate I had passed through, crying loudly and then reaching, reaching, reaching. I touched your hair, waved good-bye, and left you crying as someone picked you up to get you started on your day.

Dad