I Survived

On Saturday Little Miss, my baby, reached the ripe ol' age of 18 months. Which means she's reached that age. That age for nursery. In our church they have a class for toddlers from 18 months to 3 years old, nursery. I've known this was coming for weeks but couldn't seem to wrap my head around it. With the other two I couldn't wait to send them off when they reached this age. They were so wiggly and noisy that trying to keep them contained during church had become such a chore. She is no less wiggly or noisy. It just didn't seem to bother me as much. I'm still trying to figure out how she went from this...

...to this...

In 18 short months. I lay awake at night trying to figure it out. It just doesn't seem humanly possible.

As as Sunday drew closer I tried to come up with excuses not to take her into nursery. I thought I was safe when, earlier in the week, she had a nasty runny nose. They don't want that kind of yuckiness coming in contact with other little kids. For sure I was safe for antother week. I did my dance of joy too quickly and it cleared up before the day came. In fact that morning I didn't even have to wipe her nose once. What a booger! When I took her in, because I decided that I needed to be the one to take her. Just in case, you know, she threw a fit and would need me to carry her to safety. Of course that didn't happen. She went in like it was nothing. Played the whole time like it was nothing. It was just nothing. I, on the other hand, wanted to bawl. I didn't. I did survive. I didn't think I was going to. But I did. I wanted to run and hide. But I didn't do that either.

Be brave.