On Friday morning, on the way to Disneyland, I had to drop by Babito’s new daycare provider to drop off our deposit to hold our spot starting next month.  I rang the doorbell and Miss Debbie, the daycare provider, opened the door.  I was anxious to get a peek into the house to see the children that Babito would be spending so many hours with in the near future.

I wanted to see if they looked happy, content.  I wanted to see if they looked friendly.  I wanted to make sure there were no little bullies that were going to make Babito sad or end up changing his sweet, gentle, loving disposition.

As Miss Debbie opened the door, I saw five friendly little toddlers standing behind her, craning to see who it was at the door.  They were all smiling and a few even waved to me.  They all seemed happy, but they all seemed to have a sense of longing, of hope, that it was their mommy or daddy at the door to pick them up.  I thought of Babito doing something similar someday when someone else was at the door.  It made me sad.  Sad and a little guilty that we have been dropping Babito off at a place like this every weekday since he was just a baby.

I got back in the car, looked back at Babito in his car seat, and with watering eyes, looked at him and said “Someday soon you’ll be staying home with Mommy, Babe, I promise.  I’m sorry.”

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