We drive by elementary schools and Lia tells me that I can just drop her off there and pick her up later.
And then today she informs me that:
“I don’t live here anymore.” (She knocked on the kitchen door and shook my hand and told me to welcome her to my house.)
“I live in my own house.” (That would be the living room.)
“With Danny.” (Yes, Lissette, this is Danny your 9? year old nephew. She wants to marry him. When we were in Guam and I asked her who she missed in California, she missed Danny. “He’s so funny.”)
“But I’ll come over and eat with you. And watch a movie.”
Would we call this “separation play”? Well, dadgummit, she can pretend she’s moving out, but at the age of three I am NOT cutting the apron strings.
I’m beginning to suffer from extreme separation anxiety. I’ve been worried about the school issue (which is coming up in a year or two). But obviously I’m worrying about the wrong things. I should be worried about her moving out. And getting married.