At Conor's daycare, they often will put the children's answers to different questions on the door to their room. It's a lot of fun to see what the children's responses are because they are usually quite funny.
To wit, the class read "Are you my Mother?" and the children answered the question "What is your mommy like?" Conor's response was cute "I don't know. I have to think about it" but others were hysterical "My mommy sounds like a helicopter and she's really slow" as well as "My mommy has long hair and long legs." (Vavavavoom!)
Today's posting on the door was "Dear Santa" and the children apparently responded to what they'd like to ask Santa for Christmas. Answers were mostly toy related "I don't know--a lot of toys!" and "My daddy needs some paper and Anna wants a princess."
Conor's answer was "I would ask a present for Mommy and Daddy, but I really need my own little brother."
His response was as unexpected as mine when I ran sobbing down the hall of daycare, my hand over my mouth to keep from wailing. I hid in the staff bathroom until I could gain a modicum of composure. I was still able to tackle the mother who saw my reaction as she left to let her know I was alright if somewhat mortified. It was awkward then, but can you imagine how awkward it would have been if I wasn't able to see her until tomorrow? She's seen me act like a nut; I would still be a nut.
It felt pretty raw to see Conor's wish for a little brother up on the door. All the other children asked for toys. And seeing his innocent request makes me feel empty and, publicly, called out as a failure.