Such an unhappy boy!

I dropped off a very unhappy little boy this morning. In fact, as soon as we got into the classroom, he started to scream in terror and cling to me for dear life. He settled down a bit while I was signing the roster sheet (still holding him, mind you), only to freak out again when one of the teachers reached out to take him from me.

I have my suspicions of the cause of this, aside from the common separation anxiety. Lack of Mommy-time combined with a little cold and generally not feeling too great equals an unhappy baby.

Yesterday, I left work early after vomiting in the bathroom. Thankfully, I made it to the bathroom in order to do it. I cleared off my desk, told my boss I just threw up and needed to go home, and rushed home to my bed (which is not too far from the bathroom, thankfully). I don’t know how many times I puked; I just know it wasn’t a good scene.

I took The Boy to the doctor yesterday afternoon, and Dr W took a look at me, too. The Boy and I both have colds, and he’s getting over the stomach bug that he just gave me. Oh joy, joy, joy. After the appointment, I drove home, called Cute Husband to come out of the house and collect The Boy from my car, and rushed to the bathroom before going to bed. So The Boy did not have any Mommy-time last night (and the fact that I heard Cute Husband tell him “Mommy doesn’t want you in there” probably didn’t help matters much).

We were fine this morning at the house. He woke up (on his own – I was in no rush to get out of bed this morning), and we cuddled and chatted for a little while before I changed his diaper (poopy – no diarrhea – but still a bad diaper rash) and dressed him in his clothes for school. Before breakfast, we played for a bit (his new favorite toy is an empty paper towel tube), I tried to teach him the word “egg”, and he took out all his books from his bookcase. (I was in no shape to try to stop him.) Then, after a hearty breakfast of yogurt, Pirate Booty (because he has suddenly decided not to eat bananas), and a few sips of milk, we piled into the car and were on our way.

He was in such good spirits during the ride over. He pointed out the window and chatted about the things he saw (none of which I, of course, understood), and was otherwise in a great mood. He protested when I tried to clean his face before taking him out of the car, but even when we were on our way to the classroom, he seemed perfectly content.

But the moment we set foot into the room, he burst into tears. I felt so bad.

Even worse is that I’ll need to stay late tonight to finish up month-end reporting. I only hope he’ll forgive me in the morning!


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