Sometimes I think Andy ghost-wrote this book by Mindy Kaling.
He has caught me and Alex in the children's museum in his preschool building, and he sobbed about it for hours after spying us through the small window in the door. "Why did you go to the museum without me?" he kept asking. Eventually, after reasoning failed, I managed to calm him down with some sort of sugary bribe. That was only one particular instance, though, and his small life is now clouded with anxiety whenever Alex and I bid him adieu at preschool. Andy has told me that, in no uncertain terms, Alex and I are to do one of the following while he is in class:
1. Wait outside his class on the bench.
2. Wait out in the parking lot in the car.
3. Go home and wait there, but don't play with his toys.
Alex and I have decided not to select any of these items, because they all suck. Bench and car are obviously not happening, and being home with just Alex is almost worse than being home with both of them. I like to stay out and about and soak up as much of the world, or Target, as I can before bringing the kids home for the many, many hours left in the day. I like to take Alex to the children's museum or his parent/tot gym class. It's unfortunate that both of these happen to be in the same building as Andy's class because the poor kid keeps running into us, and I seriously think it's pretty much killing him.
It's a good thing Andy doesn't know that, on days when I run errands before going down to the museum, I strap Alex into his car seat because Alex gets such a huge kick out of being the big boy in Andy's absence. That alone would make Andy absolutely lose it. Sometimes I am so grateful that Alex doesn't actually talk, because I know that kid would betray all of our preschool time secrets in a heartbeat.
"Yeah, I sit in your car seat," Alex might taunt. "And it's like you don't even exist. On Thursdays we go to the gym, and I drink out of the WATER FOUNTAIN. And that balloon Mom told you she found in the parking lot? Well, she bought it for me. It's my balloon. We're just pretending that it's a stray balloon we randomly found just so that you don't completely lose your shit. Think about it Einstein. Balloons FLOAT. How could we find it on the GROUND of the parking lot? Doy!"
I do take great pains to make sure that Andy doesn't see us while he is at school. In fact, sometimes I walk out of Andy's class and up the ramp like I'm going to the parking lot only to make a U-Turn once I'm past the preschool windows and re-enter the building through the second level doors. Then, when we are leaving the gym on Thursdays, I do the opposite, walking up and out the building only to walk back down to the other entrance as if Alex and I were freshly arriving. Indeed, if Alex could talk, I can only imagine how he'd explain- or question- this indoor-outdoor-indoor insanity.
Next year, they will both be in preschool. Andy will go Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and Alex will go Monday and Wednesday. So Alex and I will still have Fridays alone- but Alex will be two, and then two and a half, and then almost three. By then, he will surely be talking (I hope), so who knows how that one lone day will play out for us. One of two things might happen. One, Andy's anxiety that Alex and I are having fun without him will live on on Fridays, fueled by Alex's verbal confirmations. Or, two- On Mondays and Wednesdays, I may be sitting outside the preschool (in my car or on a bench), wringing my hands together and wondering: Are Andy and Alex having fun without ME??
Nah. I probably won't be thinking that. Hey, what time do bars open in the morning anyway?
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