I received a phone call from D’s preschool teacher this morning. I figured that I might because he was quite out of sorts yesterday before his father picked him up and if he was having a difficult day before his dad got him, it definitely wasn’t going to get any better. Unfortunately D’s dad still doesn’t seem to understand D’s need for structure, so there is none of it and D can run wild. Today the kids started on the number 6. So I guess D was at the a table with a teacher and some kids and became quite frustrated he could not write the number 6. His teacher told him it was ok and that it was only the first day, but of course that didn’t help. My baby’s frustration turned into a full on meltdown. Simply (maybe not so simply) because he could not write the number 6.
I HATE THE NUMBER 6 !!
More than the number 6, I hate that he was so upset over it. It is devastating to me that he couldn’t get past it…he just COULDN’T…and there is not a damn thing I can do about that at this moment. I can’t do anything to ease his anxiety, his rigidity, to make him understand that the world will not end in that moment because he can’t write the stupid f*****g number 6! I don’t know how to deal with feeling so helpless.
When I get a call like this I just want to drop everything and run to get him. Calls like this make me wish I could be there to hug him and tell him it is gonna be ok. Calls like this make me wish we could afford to have me stay home and take care of my baby instead of leaving him in hands that are not my own. Calls like this absolutely break my heart.
The good thing is that after a while he recovered and has moved on. I am currently working on doing the same. I am taking solace in the fact that my day is half over and that I will be home with him soon. I think that the number 6 is going to be hated forever by me but trust that we will be practicing it at home tonight. Hopefully avoiding school day meltdowns over it in the future.