One for the laydeez

Alex still cries when I drop him off at nursery in the mornings. Or at least, he does most of the time. He was okay-ish this Monday–no all-out despair and wailing–but on Tuesday I saw a side of him that doesn’t usually come out when I leave him there.

He was looking exceptionally cool that morning: blue long-sleeved shirt, tan corduroys, new brown boots, denim jacket, and orange sunglasses. After I took off his jacket and shades, he poked his head through the doorway into the toddler room and scoped out the joint. Then he walked back to me and put his hands up in the universal “cuddle” gesture. So far, so normal.

I picked him up, and together we walked into the room. He rested his chin on my shoulder, but he didn’t seem as upset as he often does. One of the nursery assistants came up to us, said hello, and asked Alex if he wanted a cuddle from her. He nodded quietly, and clambered over into her arms.

I was just starting to wave goodbye to him, when I noticed two young girls, both a little older than Alex, maybe 3 or 3 and a half, walking over. They waved at him and said “Alex! Alex! Hello Alex!”

He looked down at them, and then back at me. His early morning frown slowly turned into a sly, cheeky grin, as if to say, “Look what I’ve found.”

There he was, my two-year-old son, already at the centre of attention of gangs of adoring older women. He may be Super Tantrum Toddler Man at home, but he can turn the charm all the way up to 11 when he wants to.

What a boy.