This past Friday morning, something happened that hadn’t before: Lily started throwing a fit just as we reached daycare.
She was riding on my shoulders, as she often does, and she’d been her usual chirpy self on the walk over. But just as we reached the sidewalk that leads to the entrance, she started pitching her body around and crying and saying “No, no, no.” I forged on, thinking maybe she’d snap out of it once we got in her room and she saw all her friends – but things only got worse. She fought being pulled off my shoulders, and tears and drool fell from her screaming, red face.
Her caregivers shooed away the other kids, who were initially anxious and happy to see Lily, then curious about why she was screaming. But Lily wouldn’t calm down, not an inch, so I quickly ran through options in my head.
Since she hadn’t eaten anything yet (which is typical), and because we often have a snack break in front of the daycare center after they finally toss us out at the end of the day (see my “How Lily Became the Norm Peterson of Daycare” post), I said, “Do you want to go outside?”
“Yeah,” she uttered through sobs.
I carried her back outside, and though I initially tried to walk toward the area where we usually sit for our end-of-the-day snack, this set her wailing again. OK. It was time to improvise. Go a completely new direction.
“Do you want to go for a walk and get a muffin at the bakery?”
“Yeah,” she said between jagged breaths.
I scooped her onto my shoulders again, and we started walking around the nearby marketplace. And it was right about then that I remembered: I didn’t have my wallet on me. Because I’m on my own with Lily each morning, I just pull on comfortable clothes that are within reach when I hear her cry out or start singing (it’s always one or the other); on this morning, I’d pulled on a pair of yoga pants with no pockets, so all I had on me are keys.
Crap. I’d just promised my frantic child something I can’t deliver. Now what? Continue reading