I was presented with an uncomfortable moral quandary this evening as I was getting ready to leave for my trivia show. I had just gotten home with Miles a few minutes prior, and Jaclyn and his babysitter were both there waiting for us. I passed Miles along, then headed into the bedroom to change. While I was in there, Jaclyn left for a run. I could tell she left, because the screams that subsequently erupted from Miles were of an intensity I had never heard before. Fortunately, he quieted down after a few minutes and started eating dinner.
But I was still in the bedroom. And I needed to leave. Now, I don’t want to sneak around behind Miles’s back, but I also wasn’t exactly delighting in the fact that he was about to go through that whole screaming-and-crying thing all over again either. I emerged from the room, his head spinning towards me as soon as he heard the sound. There was no smile, just a suspicious gaze as food dripped down his chin. We both knew what was coming.
And sure enough, he was bellowing as I said goodbye. The tears and the howling aren’t even the hardest part for me, though — it’s the reaching out for me that makes it so difficult to leave. With his tiny fingers trying to grab at me, his torso contorting and stretching to get as close to me as possible…I know he needs to learn to deal with separation, but so do I.
Of course, within minutes, he had calmed down enough to finish his food. And by “finish,” I mean eat 75%, smear 25%.