I had the strangest flashback yesterday to my years as a mother of preschoolers.
Dad started a new respite care program so I picked him up to take him there. I collected extra clothing (for obvious reasons), put the clothes in plastic zip bags with his name written on it, packed a lunch, and off we went.
The respite care takes place in a church. Workers were waiting for us, warmly welcoming, as they helped Dad find his cubby for his raincoat. On the big table in the room was an antique wooden ski–the object lesson for the day.
Dad looked reluctant, not unexpected. As I got ready to leave, he looked at me with panicked eyes. “When will you be back?” he asked.
“After lunch,” I said. Still, he looked nervous, like he wanted to bolt.
But I knew it was the best place for him to be–stimulating, encouraging, positive.
I waved goodbye and hurried out.
Just like I used to do with reluctant preschoolers.
But I spent the morning with one eye on the clock. Just like I used to!