Layla

After much anticipation and a great deal of build up I finally met Layla today.

We walked into daycare and as all of the other 18 month olds rebounded into the arms of their parents in heartbreaking-I-had-such-a-great-weekend-I-don’t-want-it-to-be-Monday-already-please-don’t-leave-me sobs, Toby leaped into the room and bounced over to meet a little girl whom he IMMEDIATELY introduced to me as Layla.

“Layla! Mommy - -Lay-LA!” he repeated with his finger about a millimeter from her face. The kid is NOT subtle.

As any good mother would do when meeting the love of their son’s life, I knelt down and smiled at my competition.

“Hello! Is your name Layla?” I asked sweetly.

She said nothing, so again, I asked,

“What’s YOUR name?”

Not. Even. A. Smile.

Oh come ON, kid. Have your parents taught you NOTHING about INLAWS?

I’d like to give this little girl the benefit of the doubt – but not only was she NOT blonde (she was brunette), but she had NONE of the attributes I had imagined would be required by my golden boy’s standards; smile included. And I don’t know if I’d say she’s 3. More like 2 and a half.

My skepticism about this Layla chick were even further reinforced as we left daycare today, my exhausted son trailing behind me as I tried to ignore his lamenting sadness about leaving “Laaaayyyyylaaa…”. On our way out we happened to run into one of the other daycare workers and I explained (in case she found his incessant Layla-ing creepy) that he “talks about Layla a lot”.

She snorted and chuckled and then with a wink said, “I’m not surprised!”

Good gracious, and here I was worried about him catching swine flu at daycare- - now here we are facing an even more potentially disastrous predicament; Layla….