I saw the number on my office phone’s caller ID and wondered who it was. People (besides my husband) rarely call me from local numbers.
I picked up with my usual, “Good afternoon, this is Michelle.” And the voice on the other line was calm and reassuring, even as she said, “Michelle, this is (R’s day care).”
Now that’s a call a working mom never wants to get. It either means your child is very ill or has done something very wrong. I had been standing up, on my way to the bathroom if you must know, and I slowly sank into my new and much-less-comfortable office chair.
“Hi,” I said quietly, wondering what it could be.
“We wanted to call you because R was bitten by another child, and it’s our policy to call when that happens,” the motherly voice said. She even apologized.
Apparently, the bite is pretty bad, it broke the skin and there is significant swelling and bruising involved. They had iced the wound and R was napping with the rest of her class. She hadn’t done anything to earn the bite, hadn’t retaliated and was just “in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Again, they were so, so sorry.
Now, these things happen. I know that. It’s just … I wrote last week about R’s adjustment to the new school, how I’m worried about how it’s going. Then, last night, one of the other little girls hugged R tightly when we were leaving, shouting, “See you tomorrow, R!” and I thought we had turned a corner. Now I’m back to wondering if she’s not fitting in (in addition to worrying about her owie).
Last night, as we snuggled before she went to bed, she began asking me about her friend A from her old babysitter’s house. Instead of avoiding the subject, we talked about A for awhile. I’ve got a couple of days off next week, and I’d like to take R over to see her old sitter and old friends. But I wonder if that would just confuse her. Or be overwhelming for the old sitter (I would stay there the whole time, of course)…
Anyway. Three more hours til I can retrieve my injured baby…