Today we visited our first nursery.
On one hand it was a success… considering she didn’t stab or set fire to any children and *whispers* no-one was looking as I managed to diffuse the buggy-lynching-incident without losing any skin…
But then, on the other hand, it reminded me that my tiny little baby is now a huge gallumping pre-schooler whom, at the mere site of a crayon, some raw pasta shapes and edible glue, didn’t give me a second thought once we’d entered into what she perceived as her own personal Fisher Price sponsored heaven…
If the room hadn’t have been packed with 2-year-olds noisily scalping one another with safety spoons, you would have actually heard my heart break in two as she tore her hand from mine and refused to so much as acknowledge my presence for the next half an hour… despite me using my best ‘completely calm we’re-in-public’ voice and my ‘totally-in-control-of-my-child and shit’ stance to summon her. I may as well have dropped her off at the gate and gone to the pub… with an empty buggy… sobbing into a pre-midday gin… with only Peppa-wanking-Pig for company…
I am officially DEAD TO HER.
How quickly she forgets that I allowed her to turn my stomach muscles into crepe-paper, drain my boobs until they resemble used condoms and chain-saw her way out of my uterus… does that mean nothing to her now… NOTHING. (these words fell on deaf ears as she spent a full five minutes staring out a ride-on fire engine whilst hugging a sandwich.)
I know I need to let go… the teeny-weeny baby is no more. She has blossomed into the pasta-sucking-turd-ninja wrestling a 3-year-old I see before me… *sighs*
And I need this for me… I’m not ashamed to admit I need the break. She’s intense, hard work and frequently smells more than a little bit funky… plus you never know ‘which’ WallyBubba you’re going to get that day… the angel or the tanker (Toddler Wanker). Why not pay someone else to take the risk, and the facial beatings…
Here’s to nursery – the shiny shiny toddler heaven with it’s endless colourful plastic possibilities. We embrace you. (And WallyBubba has promised not to burn anything if I keep the Twixs coming… #win)
*raises gin and tongues Peppa Pig in celebration*