When the nanny came in today the first thing Zachary did was burst into tears as she called out her usual cheery hello. While Jonah bustled off to the hall burbling a jolly 'Eddo, eddo, eddo' to her, my mummy's boy Zachy clung to my leg, burying his head in my lap, weeping, as he knew her arrival signalled my imminent departure.
While it plucked painfully at my heartstrings to peel him off and dump him, wailing, into her arms, I do at least have the experience of my other mummy's boy. This means I have the comfort of knowing that as soon as I am out of earshot the tears will dry as quickly as spilled juice on a hot summer's day.
My oldest son, Jacob, still clings to me when I drop him off outside his Year 2 classroom, insisting on 'one more kiss' before I am allowed to take his younger brother off to Reception.
When he started nursery he would cry hysterically for mummy, right up until I slammed the car door and drove off, at which point his teachers assured me he would turn around and bomb off to play happily until my return.
This doesn't mean that when Zach's lip starts to wobble and the tears pool in is big blue green eyes I don't want to scrap all plans to work in favour of cuddling him all day. But it does mean that I don't feel such sharp pangs of guilt, as I know the moment I have shut my office door he will be snuggling up in the nanny's lap without a second thought for his mummy.
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