Today is Monkey's second birthday. If I hadn't quit that job, I would still be taking care of him until at least this summer. That was the original agreement - a two-year contract. I would have had two years with him instead of ten months. I would have seen him grow from a tiny 3-month-old infant into a rough-and-tumble toddler. He would know me. He would know my name, he would talk to me, he would love me in a totally expressable and tangible way. I would be hefting around a chunky little boy on my hip, chasing after him at playgrounds, and showing him the New York that I fell in love with for the year and a half that I lived there.
Things are so different now.
I still miss him. So, so much.
1 comment:
Aww, that's rough. This seems to me like one of THE hardest thing about working with and caring for children—especially little ones.
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