Got what I wanted

G-man has learned to hug and it's awesome. There's nothing like that little squeeze when you realize he's holding you as much as you're holding him. Scott admitted yesterday that he likes to be the one to get him out of the crib in the morning because he always gets a hug.

So, it's something to look forward to. In the moments he's throwing a tantrum, and I wonder what he'd fetch on eBay, I just have to remember that maybe later, I'll get a hug.

Usually, there's one pretty early in the day. Sure, Scott gets the pristine version fresh from sleepyland, but even the later renditions are nice. This morning, I'm sure there was a hug-fest going on downstairs while I got ready for the day. As my sense of timing is even more out of whack now, Scott needed to leave for work before I was done and brought G-man upstairs to play next to me in my babyproofed bathroom while I finished. (Seriously, this kid loves to play with tampons! He finds them way more fascinating than I do and seems to have more uses for them, too.)

Things were going fine until Scott left. Suddenly, G-man discovers he's alone with me - chopped liver - and goes into meltdown mode. Not only have I not had my hug yet (after all, there's a full box of Tampax in the cabinet), he won't even let me near him to calm him down. Still screaming, we exit the bathroom and head downstairs. Seems he's still a little wary of me, but believes I haven't poisoned his waffle and agrees to some breakfast. Finally he's over the trauma of being home with me and starts his morning. A busy morning apparently, that leaves no room for hugs, despite my nice requests. I even used the sign-language "please" which he likes, but to no avail.

We made our first outing of the day at 9:00. The church across the street is kind enough to offer two hours of day care on Friday mornings so moms can meet, eat snacks, drink coffee and presumably get things done. Forgive the pun, but the time can be a godsend. The drop-off is not always smooth, though, and today he expressed his displeasure with the normal crying fit. But one thing was different - he sat on the floor next to me crying, not clingy like usual. Even in the throws of separation anxiety I can't get an accidental hug.

The next two hours flew by and I eagerly went back to the daycare room to pick him up. It's pretty easy to miss the li'l bugger in a short time. Due to my again stellar sense of timing, he's the last kid there. Is he worried that I'm not coming? Is he in distress that the other kids are gone while he's left? Does he even notice when I walk in? Uh, no.

But then, in the mirror, he sees me...

and smiles...

and turns around...

and starts to run in the way only kids who can't actually run yet do...

and launches himself into my arms, wraps his own little arms around my neck, gives a squeeze...

and I get my hug.