Starting this afternoon I have CJ to myself for a couple of days. As I drove to her preschool I turned on the CD player and the song “Little Girl” came on. It’s a sentimental barbershop standard, very 1965, and for a moment I thought I might have to pull over. But then I’d be late to pick up my daughter, all because of a song about someone else’s daughter. And that didn’t seem right.
I rushed to CJ’s preschool. I don’t know what I was expecting when I came into her classroom, but usually she’s excited to see me. Today, though, she was obsessed with building a Lego tower and it was 10 minutes before I could even get her to stand up. And then at the restaurant she was so exhausted and temperamental that I sort of lost it, left our dinner on the table, and carried her out.
And then we had a great bedtime, in which she insisted on two tellings of my long story “Phil the Bear.” She laughed at all the right places, both times.
Good day. Bad day. Great day. It just goes to show you never can tell.