This morning we shipped Vivi off to camp. I never envisioned camp for a three-year-old but by mid-June I was pretty certain that I was going to need some help at the end of August if I wanted to survive the summer with my sanity intact. So all this week my little spitfire will be getting her kicks from 8:30 until 3:30 under someone else's supervision.
Last night, in the heat and chaos of our "vacation" week coming to an end, I was ironing name labels into Vivi's clothes and packing lunches. My husband was beginning the mental and organizational adjustment of returning to work and we all were feeling a bit excited and anxious about the whole prospect of the two of them being out of the house all day.
Vivi went to bed at about 8 and by 8:30 I had climbed in with her. I wanted to snuggle and hold onto my first baby who is so much a kid that I can hardly stand it. "Mama, you can sleep in my bed tonight," she said. When I told her that I would take up too much space in her bed, she said, "well, you can sleep on my futon then." I don't know if she was sensing my insecurity or expressing her own. I sang her Good Night, My Angel while we snuggled and then kissed her goodnight.
As I was creeping out of her room, Vivi asked, "Mama, can I take some string cheese in my lunch tomorrow?"
"And the noodles in the green bowl?"
"And some blueberries?"
"And some goldfish for my after lunch snack?"
And then I went downstairs and repacked her lunch.