60 minutes

Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, just after 4:00, I start to get butterflies in my stomach.  I get that giddy feeling, just an hour until I can leave to go get the little guy!   I work on wrapping up small tasks, try not to think about anything daunting, because I know my mind is too distracted by excitement.  What will today's report have in store?  How long did he nap?  Did he eat all his food?  What will his special message say?  Perhaps Gobbles enjoyed stacking the colored blocks or Gobbles loved the buggy ride.  Whatever it is, I always look forward to reading it at a red light on our ride home, and asking my boy if he truly did have fun doing whatever activities they say he did.

Every day that I pick up my son, I make it a game to see how long I can be in the room before he notices me there.  Sometimes just a few seconds, others almost a minute, I observe his interaction with his teachers and classmates.  Sometimes he's dancing, sometimes he's snacking, sometimes he's clapping, babbling, or listening to a story...and most of the time, whatever he's doing, he's smiling.

The look on his face when realizes I'm there?  Enough to melt away the stress of a long workday with a harried commute.  The speed with which he runs, crawls, or lurches at me with outstretched arms?  Quicker than it takes me to say Hi Mr. Boo!  I missed you!

Today for some reason I'm on the edge of my seat, so happy that it's my day to greet my little boy with a big hug.  I can't wait!