The Boy has started something new whenever I take him to school. It used to be that I’d bring him to his classroom, he’d find a toy, start playing with it, and all would be forgotten. Sometimes he would cling to my leg for a few minutes until something caught his eye, but after the first couple of weeks, I no longer had to “escape” from his grasp to leave the room.
He has just recently started throwing himself onto the ground in a crying fit after I say goodbye. I know this doesn’t last long, but it’s still heartbreaking – and not at all the last image I like to have of my little one.
The weekends are full of these now, too. Sometimes I understand why he’s doing it (i.e., when I tell him very sternly that he is absolutely forbidden from opening the cabinets under Aunt BK’s sink), but at other times, it seems to come from nowhere. And that is the most frustrating thing about it.