At 7:30am she was standing in kitchen in her pink winter jacket and yellow rain boots (gotta love spring in NL).
"I'm ready now!" she squealed, dragging her backpack down the stairs.
Even when we gave her and Ben a hug and a kiss at school, we (meaning me, PL and FG) were fine. Ok, I sobbed a little at Tim Horton's over a double double with PL. But I was pretty proud of myself. I've thought this moment over and over so many times in the last 6 months -- she's too little; she's not ready; I'm not ready; Brenda loves them so much; we love Brenda so much. But we made the choice based on a whole bunch of things. Then, when today came and off she went to Grands Vents Daycare with big brother Ben at her side -- I was starting to feel alright.
When we checked in at lunch time, she was eating, smiling and getting ready for her nap. I exhaled.
I picked them up at 4:30. FG wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed tight. She ran her fingers through my hair and rubbed my face, as if she couldn't believe I came back. I asked Madame D & Mlle R how she did when I left. "Excellent - she only cried for about an hour." "What?!" Oh god. To them it was normal, to me it was horrific! Please let it be better on Day 2.
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