And like that...he's gone

I'm referring to the agitated and anxious child I'd been leaving at daycare. Gone. And Little Dog has returned. Thank heavens. It happened overnight more or less. We spoke with the psychologist and within days he was not in tears at drop off. Little Dog, not the psychologist. I don't think he was ever in tears, but I know little of his personal life outside our appointment. Anyhow I started getting notes from his teacher that he'd had a good day. When I'd pick him up, he lallygagged and stalled leaving. And I started breathing normally again. I didn't want to write too much about it at first, just in case it was a good few days that would disappear leaving Little Dog quivering at preschool again. But enough time has passed that I think we're in the clear.
Don't get me wrong, he's not in love with school like his big brother. He still asks every morning "Is this a school day?" and lets out a big wail if it is, but he recovers quickly and that's the last he mentions it for the morning. He's also quit complaining about Donna. I don't know what's up with that, but I'm happy not to be subjected with his tales of how much he dislikes old people, especially around my birthday.
One of the little changes we made, one of the suggestions from the psychologist, was to establish a routine when we dropped him off school. Instead of the usual hug and kiss kind of goodbye, we now do an elaborate, or it maybe more accurate to say an elaborately silly send off. We still do the normal hug and kiss, I say goodbye and I say, "Have a great day!" But now, Little Dog asks, "Do you need a push?" I say I do, I explain that I need a big push to rocket me off to work and stick out my hip in a ridiculously goofy way, ok, I kind of stick out my butt, truth be told. Then the big boy with a big smile on his face, ready for his day at school gives me a monumental shove and I propel off, pretending to flail wildy, ricocheting off any convenient surface and find my way to the door. He settles in, I get in the car and we both are off to the beginning of a good day. Is this key the to our change of tone? Maybe. I may feel a little foolish as I flail my way out the door, but man does it ever feel better than reaching my car with the tears of Little Dog still echoing in my ears.