I’m composing a note about the daycare situation, but need to share this now.
Cameron came into the kitchen looking woebegone. “I want my daddy,” he said. Okay, we’ve dealt with this before. “I want my daddy. I want my daddy.” I scooped him into my arms, and he kept repeating it sadly, snuggling close.
” I want my daddy. I want … my … heeeyyy, maaaaybe I want some banana instead!”