I will never again silently judge those ‘dose and drop’ parents. You know the ones, who stop at the chemist on the way to daycare to pick up some medicine and dose up their child so the educators are none the wiser.
Here I am, in month five of daycare life. It’s been a whirlwind. The first few weeks were a blur of guilt and anxiety, prying my son’s fingers off me while he clung to me for dear life.
His first bout of sickness, which resulted in a two week on-again-off-again fever, horrendous rash, a COVID test and two visits to Emergency.
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The first time I got the dreaded call, I had just unpacked my beach umbrella and dried the last of my tears away as I drank my coffee in peace.
I was just about to head for a dip in the sparkling ocean when my phone rang, the number for daycare flashed up on screen and my stomach dropped.
Hudson had a temperature and needed to be collected. It was the last week of my summer holiday, and I had purposefully taken the week off to settle him in.
I knew kids got sick at daycare, but what I still don’t know is: how the hell do parents make this work?
He loves going, there are so many fun activities, he jumps out of my arms into those of his teachers... and yet the worry still exists.