For any working mom (part, full, or otherwise) the best part of the entire day is the Daily Daycare Pickup. Pulling into that parking lot used to inspire anxiety. Had she eaten well? Did she sleep? Had she been sad? Now, I pull up that winding road and push pause on the Sirius and a big smile erupts on my face. I know that once I use that long ago memorized code to open school's door I will be met with children's drawings hanging from the ceiling, the buzz of playtime, the daily trash sitting neatly outside each classroom ready to be taken away. I know that when I reach the fifth door on my right I will have a moment to watch her. I love that moment, the one before she realizes that I am there. Watching her interacting with Giani or Ryan or sitting on the floor with a book or in the arms of one of the afternoon caregivers, it makes me see how much she enjoys her days. And, juusttt when I begin to think, wow, she has so much fun here and what does that mean for me she turns and catches sight of me and races to find her cup.

Yesterday at pick-up she couldn't find it right away so she stood in the center of the room and did the "I don't know" gesture with her hands. When she did find it sitting on a nearby table she raced over to the cubbies, pulled down her bag, placed it inside, looked up at me and said "up." I knealt down and felt her hands tighten around my neck and I covered her in kisses.

"So, did she have a good day?"

The answer is almost always yes, but despite that, she still misses me and no matter how much fun she was having, she always gets her cup and moves to the door to head home for our favorite time of the day together; greeting Daddy at the door. "Hi, daddy."


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