The honeymoon wore off.
And ever since...Trevy starts crying the moment he realizes we're at school. When I say crying...I really mean angry screaming. And clinging. And pushing into me like he thinks if he just pushes hard enough he might be able to melt his little body into mine. And play hooky.
So I've been sitting in the mommy room wondering is this is really such a great idea. Feeling the heart tug of wanting them to see sweet adorable Trevy instead of depressed angry Trev. I mean...if he spends the whole class screaming bloody murder will he really get any benefit from it? Maybe he's too young for this? And do I really want to drive the 30 minutes just to sit behind the glass and listen to him scream for me? Fighting the urge for two hours to swoop in and rescue him. Mingled with wanting to see him thrive independent of me. To learn & explore & play. But seeing a sad little boy. Sobbing every time he looks at the door he thinks I disappeared through.
I'm a very conflicted soul. Or so I've been told. I should probably mention it to my doctor.
Anyway...yesterday we had a breakthrough. He only screamed for about 2 minutes after I left the room.
And slowly slowly I watched behind the glass as sweet adorable Trevy started surfacing. And singing. And dancing. And throwing PECS pictures at his teachers. And stealing the other kiddo's snack. And surprising everybody at how full of charm he really is.
And I watched from behind the glass. SO full of pride. Love. Joy.
Yesterday also happened to be a nasty seizure day. Weaning sucks.
And from the mommy room I saw something that melted my heart in a way I wasn't prepared for. The seizure monster was attacking. And I watched as his teacher gathered him onto her (ready to pop a baby out at any moment) lap and held him. Just like I would. Rubbing his tummy. Arms crossed just so over him. Comforting him just like I would. And I watched as Trevy looked up at her. Just like he does me. And she looked down at him. Face glowing in that way it does when your heart is deeply moved. Just like mine.
Love for my son oozed from her.
And right through the glass...into the mommy room...and back out the blubbery tears running down my face. Where I watched behind the glass. As someone else saw my beautiful son...and loved him just like I would.
I was not prepared for that. I've grown so used to people not "getting" it that I suppose I've come to believe no one ever could.
But she did. And it was beautiful.
Of course...now she's gonna be out on maternity leave for six weeks!