Yesterday afternoon was G’s first REAL playdate, one where I dropped him off and left and didn’t stay to hang out with the mom while the kids played. Before I agreed to it I had to hash it out with Hubby: Would G be a good boy? Would he be scared? Maybe we should hold off on this? But Hubby knew it was a good idea, which it was, it’s just hard to watch my baby not need me in the same house as him.
I had known about the playdate since Wednesday but had deliberately chosen not to tell G until the day of, possibly the hour of, because I knew the wait would kill him. Honestly I was worried about his wait subsequently killing me with a million and one repeated “Is it time to go to Corbin’s yet?” Thursday night Hubby happily and without thinking spilled the beans. Immediately seeing the horror in my eyes he mouthed something along the lines of Was I not supposed to tell him?
G processed the news with lightning speed and jumped up. “YAAAYYYYY!!!!!!” Then the questions started. But before I could fully answer all of G’s excited questions I had to tend to Little Missy, who had thrown herself down on the floor in protest over not also being invited. The poor girl has never watched her brother go off and play without her and she wasn’t handling the switch very well. So I jumped in. “Oh Sweetie, do you want me to invite Faith over to play?!?” On her tummy, with her head in her arms, she turned slightly to look at me and nodded with a melodramatic sniff.
Friday was a loooooong day. From the time G woke up it was “Is it time to go to Corbin’s yet?” So I took him into the kitchen to look at the digital clock on the stove, tried to explain to him that he wasn’t going to Corbin’s until the first number was a 3, etc etc. Every few minutes he’d jump up “Is it three o’clock yet?” to which I’d respond “What does the clock say?” when he would run in the kitchen and report back “8-4-3″ or “1-1-3-4″ or “1-2-01.” Then after I’d translate the numbers into the actual time he’d ask “Oh, is that a long time?”
Growing up my parents always associated time in the car—the always present “Are we there yet?” and “How much longer?”—with the Cosby Show. When we had an hour-and-a-half left until arriving at Grandma’s house my dad would say “It’s three more Cosby Shows.” This made perfect sense to Hayley and me. Now Hubby and I use SuperWhy. But 14 SuperWhys might be a little incomprehensible. So I’d just say “Yes, it’s a while.”
Finally it was time to leave for Corbin’s. G ran inside his friend’s house without a backwards look at me. As we drove away Little Missy was still so sad. Even though we had to make it back to our house for Faith’s arrival, Faith wasn’t with her yet, and that just won’t cut it when your best friend has run off into someone else’s house without you. So I indulged her.
“Little Missy, do you want a yummy drink?”
She lifted her eyebrows and nodded. “Mm-hmm!” We headed toward Sonic. “Mommy, my tummy hurts because I’m hungry.”
And then I really tried to fill her sadness with food and treats: “Do you want some tater-tots?”
“For me? From Sonic?” She was a bit surprised. But very happy.
With a slushee and some tater-tots she forgot all about her brother being gone. Food makes lots of things better.