I had a bittersweet Mama moment today.
I dropped my Boo off at preschool this morning. She sat down at the puzzle table and I went to hang up her jacket. By the time I turned around, she was laughing with her little girlfriend and having a great old time.
Then I went over for my kiss goodbye. She absently turned her head to kiss me, keeping her eye on the puzzle. I said, "See ya later alligator," and she just gave me a, "bye Mama" without looking up, totally engrossed in what she was doing, having fun.
And I was sad. Teary-sad. She was such a big girl now, sitting there with her friends. All of 4-years old, and independent enough to not make a fuss when I leave.
I walked out a little melancholy - happy that my leaving didn't make her sad, but also mourning the loss of my little baby.
And then I heard the wail and reality and practicality came sharply back into focus.
It wasn't my Boo screaming, it was a 4-year old from anther room. I knew this because his mother was standing there, backing away from the closed door, white faced and teary. "But I wore my lucky socks!" she emplored, turning to me. "I did the goodbye dance and snorted. That ALWAYS works."
I nodded, suddenly remembering. We used to do a secret handshake, and on the bad days my secret weapon was a silly butt wiggle.
"I haven't washed these socks in a month! It should have been okay," she groaned.
The crying stopped and she peeked in the window.
"He's laughing now," she smiled, watching him for a bit. "He's forgotten all about me," and then she gave me a sad face.
"Yep," I nodded. "I know. Me, too."
She nodded. "I guess I'll get used to it eventually."
I smile, "In the meantime, you might wanna wash those socks."
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