In general Z's been doing great at preschool, picking flowers to bring to her teacher and telling us about the "work" she's been doing. But things deteriorated at this morning's drop-off.
Instead of merrily skipping into the classroom, she clung pitifully to my legs. It was hot and humid both inside and outside of the building, so I waited for the rest of the children to enter the classroom as the baby in my arms heated up my upper half and the toddler around my middle warmed and immobilized my lower half. I could feel my hair frizz and visualize the damp circles forming under my arms. It was like being in the world's most unpleasant body wrap, except I wasn't just sweating out toxins. I was wearing them, too. My otherwise adorable gray capris sported a generously-sized smear of baby poop on the right pocket. Yeah, I was a real class act.
Cross-posted to the Chicago Moms Blog
