This morning, I cried on my way to work.
I took the Boy to his sitter and had a bag with a gallon of organic milk in it to leave at her house for the week. I took the Boy in and he was a little clingy, but I would expect that on only his second Monday at the sitter's. Then I went back outside to get the milk.
And he cried. Screamed. Wailed. Pushed his little face up against the glass door, scrunched his eyes shut, and cried for me. His Mommy. Who is supposed to always be there. And who had just turned around and left him. My heart broke in a million pieces. I went back in and held him, kissed him over and over again, and told him it was going to be okay, that he would have fun with the sitter and her little girl, and Daddy would come to get him at the end of the afternoon. Then I committed a cardinal sin of parenting, that which the books and websites tell you you shouldn't do ever ever ever. I snuck out while he was distracted by a toy.
And proceeded to sob in the car through most of my ten minute drive to work.
And the Boy proceeded to have his best day yet with the sitter.