Frances Friday: Long Days

If I leave work at 5:20, I get to the daycare just before 6:00, which is when it closes. I walk into the kindergarten room and there she is, my wee girl, playing solemnly with a toy, generally spattered with something staining, the only or nearly only child left in the room. It is a long day for a little girl.

She looks up and catches my eye. "Mummy!"

"Frances!" I squat down and open my arms for a hug; she rushes into them. "I missed you, sweet girl."

"I missed you too, Mummy." She wraps her arms around my shoulders and I stand up, holding her. She looks excitedly to M, the daycare worker who is the last to leave. "This is my Mummy! My Mummy is here! She came to pick me up!"

M smiles. "I don't know how you stand it. 'I missed you too!' That is just too cute."

I laugh. "I manage."

We walk home, Frances running ahead and telling me I can't catch her, the setting sun before us, leaves starting to turn in patches and fall off the trees, squirrels feasting on pinecones. Then it's supper, playtime, bed. We only have an hour and a half in the evenings together, which is not enough time, but she needs her sleep. There is a chapter of Alices's Adventures in Wonderland, a Princess Frances story, a snuggle, a few tears, a protestation of non-sleepiness, a tuck-in, another snuggle, a few more tears, a reiteration that it is bedtime and she needs her sleep, another snuggle, a kiss, and lights out. She is always asleep within five minutes, and wakes in the morning happy and rested at a good time. But that hour and a half is never enough.

She looks forward all week to Thursday, when Daddy picks her up, and they eat dinner and play at his house, which is up up up! They go high up in the elevator, and then she sleeps in her old bed at Daddy's house, and he will bring her in to school tomorrow and pick her up. I'll see her again on Saturday, and we'll have all day Sunday.

Sunday is what I look forward to. A whole day with my dear girl, no schedules to keep. Maybe this week we will get her winter boots and a new coat, I don't think last year's will fit. Maybe we will get a cheeseburger and french fries, or chicken and dipping sauce, while we are out for a treat. Maybe we will go to a park and enjoy the cooling days. Maybe we will snuggle on the couch and watch a movie. Then Monday is my compressed day; she will have to go to school in the afternoon but in the morning we can sleep in, play, watch TV. I can put her on my lap and she can make a house for the baby mole with her hand.

All I know is I miss her already.

Posted by Andrea at September 14, 2007 8:09 AM under Frances Friday

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