I was trapped in my house with a potty training toddler over the weekend. Granted, a very sweet potty training toddler who told me I was a beautiful mommy on several occasions (melt), but still: POTTY TRAINING. It’s draining. Despite the fact that Liam picked it up really quickly and is doing very well, it was still tiring—maybe because of all of those sprints to the bathroom. At one point Liam literally yelled at me to “move faster!”, kind of how I would imagine a drill sergeant might bark at me if I were ever to join the army. I’ve never moved so quickly in my life.
When I finally managed to
escape the madness go on a little excursion with my sisters sans Liam, this is what I found in my car. My first reaction was “did it SNOW in here?!” but then I realized: I had left a seltzer can in the car (along with approximately 540 crushed animal crackers on the floor, an entire library of Sesame Street books, receipts dating back to 2005, and more straw wrappers and napkins than you can count). It’s been REALLY REALLY COLD, and apparently sub-zero weather turns seltzer cans into ice bombs.
To make ourselves feel better after our obvious lack of judgment, we ordered iced coffees from Coffee Express on the way to the supermarket. Which we promptly drank half of and left the other half in the car to freeze. Are we sensing a pattern here?
At least I can console myself that the potty training was a success. ;-)
So, we just submitted an application for preschool. As in, an application for preschool for my baby who I swore could never leave me until he was 98 years old. Be prepared for lots and lots of crying if he is actually accepted, because right now I’m in complete denial. I keep saying things like “we’ll decide when we get the letter back from the school” and “there’s no rush making a decision.” You know what that means? I’m only in the first stage of grief. I’m sure my hand will start shaking uncontrollably when I have to write the check (well, that’s an emotional AND a financial thing, because heck, preschool is apparently worth the actual cost of your firstborn child).
Look at this face. Could you send him to school? Me neither. Come on, Liam, let’s go snuggle under your Mickey quilt and watch Winnie the Pooh again. I’m sure we can keep doing this forever.
The flip side of this is that I’m actually hoping he DOES get into this school, because from everything that I can tell, it’s amazing. Liam is obsessed with musical instruments (obsessed like, he’ll give you a musical instrument the second you enter our house, instruct you how to hold it, and then proceed to conduct you in a song of his choosing) and this is a preschool based in a music conservatory. Lots of attention, lots of focus on the things he loves. What’s so hard about sending your child off somewhere new is that you don’t know if they will approach learning or communication or nurturing the same way—but I guess that’s part of the whole learning process, right?
Now I’m off to inspect Liam’s elbows. I’m seriously concerned his baby dimples are starting to disappear. WAHHHHHHHHHHH.