First Day of Daycare, and Neither Of Us Cried.

And by "us", I mean Mr. PW and I. Little Girl was fine. Which is good? I think? I'm glad to see her without separation anxiety (though I know that stage is coming) but part of me is like WHY DON'T YOU NEED ME LIKE I NEED YOU.

Ahem. I tell you what, we had this morning choreographed down to the second. We had her awake, changed, fed, and dressed in the last fifteen minutes before we needed to leave and without any tears! Of course, as I was buckling her into her carseat, she spit up all down her front, but one can't have everything.

Most of me is fine with her in daycare. Truly. We would be on a very, very tight budget if I were to stay home and I would be 400 pounds and lose all conversational skills. And I'm confident in the woman we chose - it's in her home, she has years of experience, and there will only be two other babes. She's cheerful and flexible and chill. But there's a part of my lizard brain that's screaming at me that I left my helpless babe alone on the savannah and any moment a cheetah's going to carry her off into oblivion.

And bless her perceptive heart, our daycare provider sent us a photo before we even got off the bus to work. Little Girl was playing on a playmat, happily swatting at dangling toys. She's fine. We're fine.

We're all fine.