Baby’s Day Off

Poor, poor sweet Gertrude. She just didn’t want to do it today. After a whirlwind week spent with Grandma, playing in the mud with Great Grandma, chasing after the dogs and eating a wide variety of snacks, she just didn’t want to go on today. Friday is her traditional play day at Diana’s; a day she usually looks forward to with the same excitement as going to the circus.

But today was different.

“I don’t want to go to Diana’s,” she said. “I want Mommy and Daddy.”

She didn’t want it to be Friday. She didn’t want her regular routine. She wanted a day off.

And isn’t that fair? When kids get to school, they are afforded days off. Adults get to take days off from work. Shouldn’t toddlers be allowed to say, “You know what? I just don’t want to do the routine today. Can I stay home and just watch TV and play with my toys? I don’t want to see other people.”

I know exactly how she feels. When my wife kicked my lifeless body today I responded, “No thanks. I’m on a bed strike.” So was Gertrude. She was ready for a sofa strike to point out the inequalities that toddlers suffer. Not today, she said. Today is a lazy day.

Of course, the adults have their routine too. And though we understand her feelings, today we had responsibilities and appointments. We knew that once she got to Diana’s she’d go out and play with the kids. She’d jump headlong into the Movie Day activities and eat like a pig. Just like every Friday.

But it was difficult to ignore those plaintive moans, the little face buried in your neck, little arms clutching you, the refusal to put on her shoes. Just. Not. Today. Today, she needed her family.

Now that she’s been delivered safely to Diana’s, albeit reluctantly, I feel guilty. I should have stood up and said, “These responsibilities I have are nothing, my child. You and I shall stay home today on our bed strike. We will watch JoJo’s Circus and have popcorn for lunch. We will not have a nap today. If we get sleepy, the couch is just fine. And we’ll play only with your toys. We shall not step outside into the harsh cruel world. Instead, my little one, you and I will shun the world and just be lazy today.”

That’s what I should have said. But I didn’t.

And though I know she’s just fine at Diana’s, that she’s forgotten all about her protests, excited to wash her hands with foamy soap after a successful potty attempt, I haven’t. The more I think about it, the more regret I have regarding my decision to have her soldier on with her routine. Though I’m sure that psychologists and noted child-rearing experts would tell me that I did the right thing, I’m beginning to disagree. She’s my little girl.

Damn it, I miss her. I should go save her.

Sigh.

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