Te Conozco, Bacalao

Oh. My. God. Faker McFakerson! I saw you!!

Now I have read and been reassured that JD's unnatural, obsessive, unrelenting attachment to me is in fact quite natural, developmentally appropriate, and, for all intents and purposes, a great big KUDOS to me on a job well done of teaching my son that I am the go-to gal for all his needs, the warm lap and always-open arms of comfort, his rock of safety in this great big world... in short, the sun, moon and stars of his entire universe. Not to brag or anything... It is simultaneously the coolest, best feeling ever, and the most draining, exhausting work I have ever done.

So anyway, I was a bit curious to hear how it went today for JD's new babysitter. I raced down the hall and flung open the door. JD, Shank, and Sitter were all three sitting in a little circle, happily spinning the wheels on his truck. I saw him. He was smiling. And then, he saw me.

And I saw the biggest, fakest, melodramatic-est scene I have ever witnessed.

As JD stood himself up, he started drawing big, weepy breathes and set his chin a-wobble. He toddled towards me as fast as his little legs would carry him, raising his arms up as he advanced and letting the big, fat tears roll. He raced towards me and flung himself at me, crashing and clinging onto my legs and working up to a fire-engine wail. Mama, How Could You? Do You See The State I Am In? Mama, Never Leave Me Again. MAMA!!

The babysitter was astounded. She said, "I swear, he was literally just fine." And I said, "I know." Te conozco, bacalao.