Monday, May 29, 2017


I got a substitute for nursery on Sunday because chasing around a bunch of two-year-olds sounded like a bit too much work with my poor wee toe in such a sorry state. It was nice to have a week off, and Memorial Day weekend was a good weekend to do it because so many people were out of town that the chapel was eerily quiet. We had eight kids, total—with both nurseries combined.

Zoë has never really gone to nursery on her own. I've left her for a few minutes at a time to run errands (eg. getting supplies from the nursery cabinet, which isn't in our nursery room) but she's always cried the whole time I was gone. And the one week (in six months of nursery attendance, but really nearly a year of being in nursery) that I stayed home sick and Andrew took her to church she ended up hanging out with him because she couldn't stop blubbering.

This Sunday, however, I sneaked away while she was investigating the toys and she didn't even notice. I took her potty in the middle of nursery and she cried for a minute when I dropped her back off, but recovered in record time.

"Stay, Momma! Stay!" she begged.

"I can't stay right now," I said. "But I'll be back. I'm going to come do singing time with you at the very end. It's snack time right now—you don't want to miss out. Look, there's your spot!"

She wasn't very happy about the idea of us parting, and she wailed as she ran across the room away from me, but by the time I'd walked around to peek in the other set of doors she was happily seated.

When I came back in to do singing time she said, "Momma—gack!"

"Yes, I'm back," I said, gathering her into my arms. "Of course I'm back. Mommas always come back!"

Perhaps now that she's two she's getting over this separation anxiety thing...

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