We have just over a month left with a 2-year old. Soon, our little one will be a 3-year old. I can’t believe it.
We just started full, 8-hour days at daycare (although still just 4 days a week). From age 1-2.5, Avery went to daycare for 4 hours a day, Mon-Thurs. Then, a few months ago, we added another 2 hours to each day so I could get more work done. Now, as I wrap up my dissertation writing process (one chapter left!!) and start contract work, I have 8 hours a day to get work done. 8 hours without my almost 3-year old (who will always be my baby). I feel sad about it. I find myself watching the clock. By 1pm I’m itching to pick her up.
Tonight at bedtime we exchanged lovey dovey sentiments, like “I love you sooooo much” and “you’re the best.” Then I said I missed her when she was at daycare all day. As if she knew exactly what I needed to hear, she responded with a kiss on the forehead and, “you’re my grown-up.”
I teared up. I’m her grown up, and she’s my kid, and it’ll be that way for the rest of our lives, no matter how far apart we are, or how much time we spend apart.