Otis goes to daycare...

I was so sure I'd manage to tough it out. I'm not really much of a crier, you see. But my boy does tend to bring out the teariness in me.

I felt a little off from the minute I woke up this morning. The hugs lasted a few seconds longer. I didn't realise what was underlying all of this — a sadness at having to 'abandon' him. It's not rational, it's ridiculous, but when his little knees dug deeply into my waist, and his sweaty head pressed against my shoulder, I could feel the tears starting to spring. The lovely ladies took such gentle, affectionate care of him, popping him into a highchair next to the other little ones, talking softly but confidently to him, giving me a reassuring smile. He just screamed at first. He wouldn't touch the pear muffin I'd lovingly baked. But after a few moments he did eat, sitting quietly, cautiously, aware that things weren't quite right.

I said bye-bye, kissed him swiftly, and left. He cried and cried.

I cried and cried! Walking down the street, for all the world to see.