So Oliver started Daycare officially this week. That means Dad is back at work. Yes, the 9 to 5. Rat Race. Paper pushing. There are other names too, but I'll leave those to the imagination (some of them are positive, you pessimists!) I'm commuting by car now too. Means no more zoning out on the subway listening to music and playing Uno on my iPhone. At least I get to chat with the little guy on the way in. He babbles away contentedly from the backseat.
Day 1 went quite well, except he didn't nap much. He did enjoy his soup and his cream cheese sandwich. Anything cheese this kid.
Day 2 - not so great. I had to head back an hour after I dropped him off to help console the little fellow. Good thing my office is only two blocks from the daycare. He had another bit of a meltdown in the afternoon but thankfully went down for a two and a half hour nap. I think the daycare staff were thankful. Too bad Dad didn't get one of those today.
Wee man seemed pleased as punch when I got him home so I started to think that he was just unhappy about being abandoned. But his fussiness quickly returned and a glance inside his mouth revealed white gums. Looks like teething is on again. Can't he just make-do with the eight he has, at least for the time being? At least he fell asleep quickly - all tuckered out. Not sure if was the daycare activities or the wailing which finished him, but either way he had nothing left in the tank.
Tomorrow's hump day and then it's coasting downhill from there. At least we can hope. March Madness starts this week too. Maybe the little guy can bring the good luck he brought to my Olympic viewing (did I mention I saw 13 of Canada's 14 Gold medals live?) to my bracket. Papa could use a brand new bag.
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