Walking Zoe

Picking Z up from nursery can be quite emotionally disheartening.

If you are not emotionally strong, like PL & me.

Usually her grandparents (PL’s parents) will pick her up, so I do not know if she is also distant and unemotional when they pick her up.

But all the times we (PL & I) or just I have gone to pick her up, she had looked at us, like we were interrupting her VERY IMPORTANT LIFE, to take her home.

So it was when I turned up that Tuesday to pick her up.

She turned to me with a look that seemed to be asking, “WHY are you HERE?”

She didn’t seem excited to see me, or to go.

Anyway, she got her things and I got her shoes, and I asked her to sit down so she could wear her shoes.

She didn’t want to. She wanted to stand as I helped her with her shoes.

Usually she would ask me to carry her.

Surprisingly, she did not that day. But walked slowly and carefully to the bus stop. Which was a good thing. We wanted her to walk more and not ask to be carried all the time.

When the bus came, I picked her up, and she let me, but on the bus, she wanted to stand in front of my seat instead of sitting next to me.

This got me wondering. And it is NOT a good thing for an ex-policeman to think about explanations for unusual behaviour. And with my wife being an ex-Child Protection Officer, we can hypothetically drive each other mad with anxiety over possible explanation for various behaviour.

Like in this case, why was Z not wanting to sit or be carried? Scenarios involving abuse whipped through my mind.

Fortunately, I am also not given to over-imagination.

She’s favouring her butt. What might make her do so?

Ah! Poop.

And just as I figured it out the bus took a turn off my route.

And I remembered I was supposed to change to another bus to get home.

Dammit!

Anyway, I got off at the next stop, took another bus to the Train/Bus interchange, and there took the train home with Z.

Walking to the train, Z also did not want to be carried. And when we got off the train and walked back home.

I was more relieved having figured out why Z was behaving unusually, and I allowed my mind to entertain scenarios where the nursery teacher reported me as being a potential abuser of my daughter based on her less than enthusiastic response to me.

Because, hey, I need some excitement in my life, right?

More importantly, I wondered how could we introduce poop into her diaper to “encourage” her to walk more. This requires more thought…

Anyway, we got home. I changed her. And two hours later, she pooped again and I had to change her.

This always happens after a trip. (We just got back from a weekend trip.)

She’s in unfamiliar surroundings and doesn’t go as much, and then when she comes home, she “let it go! Let it go!”

And I was the beneficiary of her “double doody”.

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