One thing I loved about my mother watching Nathan is that he was always clean when I picked him up. Bathtime fit in the schedule right after “HUGS!” (she really wrote out the schedule with frequent slots reserved for “HUGS!”) and before Curious George. And after my mom buzzed me in, she would let Nathan out into the hallway, where I would find him in a fresh outfit, a sweet baby shampoo smell wafting from his head. I loved the moment when he realized that it was his mother at the other end of the hall, and he would run, only to find that damn, what is this? The 5K? I’m tired. Why don’t you meet me at my end, good woman?
And this week has been a particularly hard transition for Nathan. Granted, we are very happy with our choice and the daycare provider is a sweet woman. Nathan roams through her enormous backyard and wallows in the dirt and grass. And this is obvious when we arrive at the door, and take our son home, harboring a foreign house smell with us. But if this is our only concern and it’s a very small one at that, we’re doing okay so far, right?
Nathan has a Spiderman-themed birthday party to attend tomorrow and so what’s the limit on gifts? I don’t want to look like a cheapskate, showing up with Spiderman pillow cases when everyone else brings offerings from the higher echelon of Spiderman-paraphernalia. I want to make a good impression, especially since I really like this family, so I’m aiming for a gift that falls between Spiderman tic-tacs and hiring Toby Macguire for the day, because I’m sure he has other things to do like perfecting his lame acting career.