Update

Sometimes I hate when I am right. Yes, things have progressively gotten worse with Victor and preschool. When I pick him up, his teachers Mrs. Maria and Mrs. Debbie, looking slightly weary, have both let me know that young boy has been crying a lot throughout the three hours that he is there. Today was by far the most traumatic drop-off session. Usually he gets weepy and clings on to me a little right before I split, but today, oh my word, he was hysterical and was trying to escape, while screaming "Please take me home, Mommy. Help me! Take me home, pleeease!" over and over. It was absolutely awful and I wouldn't wish this experience on my worst enemy (not that I really have any, but you get the point).  He was seriously acting as if I was taking him to a torture chamber.  It was outrageously dramatic to the other moms and teachers, but so heartbreaking to me.  I somehow forced myself to walk away, turning my back on him, when all I really wanted to do was scoop his little body into my arms, dry his tears and tell him that he didn't have to stay. Believe it or not though, when I came to get him, they said today was much better and my poor baby only cried for about a half hour rather than an hour and a half like the day before. I'm thinking he used up too much energy in the first five minutes. The crazy thing about all this is... I did the same exact thing to my mom when starting kindergarten. In fact, I remember actually managing to flee from the classroom into the hallway, desperately chasing her down. Sorry about that, Mom. Now I know how you felt.