Frankie has been going through a very clingy stage again lately. She has never been great at separating from me in strange situations, despite her confident swagger in any setting she knows well, but the last few weeks have been especially difficult. When I bring her to BSF, she clutches me around the neck like one of those monkeys with velcro on the ends of their arms, and when I take my arms away and try to set her down, it feels like I am wearing a bulky thirty pound necklace. Sunday school, for whatever reason, is a bit better, but still I have to unravel our twisted limbs and hurl her at her teacher before making a beeline for the exit as her arms are outstretched with longing. Even yesterday, at my friend Cam's house, I left her happily watching Thomas with her buddy Andrew, only to hear quiet sobbing a few minutes later and plaintive "I want my maaaaamaaaa."
This is especially ironic in light of a recent conversation we had in the bathtub. I was telling her that we should be grateful to God that I could stay home with her since some Mommies have to go to work every day. She listened soberly, with what I thought was a gravitas born of gratitude for the many joys of having her stay-at-home mother, and then, at the part when I stressed the great sadness of Moms going to work EVERY day, her face slowly lit up and she yelled, "I would LOVE that! I would be with my DADDY every day! I would LOVE that! I love my daddy the best!."