My child comes home smelling of other women. The smells surround him like a cloud — flowery, powdery, some days citrusy. When he gets off the bus, I hug his small frame to me in an attempt to replace it with my mommy smell, to make him familiar again. My nose itches with all that he did today that I did not get to see.
His communication notebook means the world to me since, unlike his brother, he cannot tell me about his day. It’s the first thing I go for, as soon as we’re inside. Here are a few excerpts:
“We were impressed with his attention span and also (hooray!) his fine motor efforts.”
“John said ‘Hi’ and ‘Ball'”
“He really likes to color! We were impressed at his little circles inside bigger shapes.”
“He was in a great mood today, very responsive and happy. He was following visually in all directions, where we had not seen him look upwards much before this.”
“He keeps surprising us… we did not expect him to love painting. But he really did.”
“We just love John!”
“John has been singing with us…he sang: ‘John, John, get on the bus, John, John.”
He is only three — already so independent and in a completely different way than I could have imagined.
I love him so.