I cried when you left me

It's Ev's third week of preschool, and so far things have been going well. He always looks forward to school days, and his teachers say he's been getting used to the routines without too much trouble. I'm so glad we found a classroom that's such a good fit for him.

This morning, Evan and I set out on our walk to school as usual, but we took a little longer because of the heavy snow that had fallen overnight. We're always a few minutes early, so I walk Ev up to the classroom and get him settled before I return home. Today we were late enough that we arrived just as the bus did, so Ev's teachers were out front and offered to take Evan up themselves. No problem, I thought, and kissed Evan and told him I'd see him in a few hours.

That's when it all blew up in my face. Evan couldn't believe I wasn't walking him upstairs. He began hysterically crying and flailing his arms and legs. One of the teachers had to wrestle him inside the building as I stood helpless on the stairs. I wanted to go to him, to hug him and walk him in like I always do, but I knew that probably wasn't the best thing. I turned around and walked home, feeling guilty all the way.

There was that feeling, finally--that feeling of abandoning my child that I thought I would feel on the first day and never did. It's a relief to have it over with, truthfully. I knew it would hit me sometime and I was just waiting for it. Mike assured me over the phone that Ev was probably fine five minutes after his outburst and would have forgotten all about it by the time I pick him up. I hope that's true, and I hope this is the only day we have like this. I don't think I could take that over and over again.