Today was truly a momentous day. Von Bebe's first afternoon at daycare went... pretty well. My wife was on her way to pick up the child when I got a call from the provider suggesting she has had enough for one day and really misses her parents. I am assuming this will get easier but I am really glad we decided on a couple weeks of half days before separating VB from her parents for more than 4 hours at a time. We are assured by other parents that extensive crying is mandatory for the first few days. Hopefully, this does not make us asses. I can't imagine that wanting to be home with your child as much as possible makes one an ass, but I can definitely see the advantage of starting daycare earlier when awareness hasn't fully developed, yet. Whatever, I'm still glad to have had as much time at home as I have had this summer. How else could I get this quintessential laundry basket shot.
I'd like to take a quick second to point out a couple of links I've added to the right. These are great resources for dads who don't want to feel like a complete schmuck. Thankfully, there is a lot of great advice and information to be had that is better than the usual "you should volunteer to do the vacuuming once in a while" crap that is found in most books. I find it appalling that fathers still need to be told this. And if you're a father who is offended by the prospect of actually doing some housework, you're probably not reading this... and you might be an ass.
Von Bebe has developed lightning reflexes and her arms are much longer than they look. Therefore, she gets into everything and everything gets into her mouth before her sometimes unobservant parents are able to intercept things like power cords, dog hair and leaves from between the cracks of the deck. Yum. Because of this, she also gets much closer to the cameras than sometimes anticipated as you can see here.
One more day until VB starts going to daycare part time. I still have a couple of weeks before I go back to work, but we thought it would be best to ease into it. Not for her, but for me. I'm sure she'll be fine. I'm the one who will likely be spending the next several afternoons in fetal position cradling her stuffed owl and quietly humming to myself.
