anxiety

Dylan,

You had a really hard time letting me leave this morning after I took you to school. I stayed for a couple minutes (as I often do) and drew pictures with you on the little personal chalkboards with their impossibly tiny erasers, but when I told you it was time for me to go to work you just didn't want to accept it.

It wasn't that you had a problem with being left there, just that you wanted me to stay and play too. "Color!", "Color!" you urged as I walked toward the door, before running over and trying to haul me back to an activity table.

Eventually, over the course of several minutes, one of your teachers got you somewhat engaged in cutting strips of colored masking tape and creating designs on paper with the pieces. You insisted that I watch, which I did for a while, gradually moving farther away when you wouldn't notice. Then you'd see that I had moved, and implore me again to "watch" before turning back to your activity. Finally, I sneaked out.

It's very, very unusual for you to exhibit this kind of separation anxiety, although you also had an exceptionally hard time last Saturday when I left you at the gym daycare while Mom was exercising. Maybe it's a phase. Or maybe (in today's case) it has something to do with last night's unpleasant dream which led you to yell "NO! something something dinosaur!"