Well, the reality is finally settling in for little she-who-is: I Am Not the Center of Attention Anymore. It’s a sad realization for her, but I’m grateful she’s not taking it out on M. Her father and I can take it.

On Wednesday, when I dropped her off at day-care after our Morning with Mommy, she threw a fit. Not a bratty foot-stomping one, but one saturated with heartbreak. She tried to climb back in the van and when that didn’t work, she collapsed onto the grass, sobbing. I think if I’d been dropping her off on the way to work I might have resigned on the spot. Good thing I had a dentist appointment (and how many times can we say that in life?).

We had a good talk that evening, but then on Friday night, R tucked her into bed and she asked for a kiss from me. R said he’d check, but he didn’t make any promises, not knowing whether M was still in the process of having second dinner. I went up some time later and she was forlorn—it’s unclear whether she’d been crying. “I was sad until you came. Were you feeding M?” she asked.

So Saturday we had a mother-daughter adventure.

I’d been looking for an excuse to go into the city, so I loaded up C, M and myself and drove to Mamala’s apartment. [Incidentally, right now they are both the perfect ages for traveling light. C doesn't need any special food or sippy cups or a stroller, and M doesn't need anything but a dry diaper, a change of clothes, and a boob.]

Speaking of which, M had lunch, then C and I walked the three blocks to the Metro, where we caught the train to Smithsonian. C’s job was to count the stops—there were three. When we got to the second one she said, “This is stop two,” and when I asked her how many more there were she said, “One,” and that sounded a heck of a lot like subtraction to me.

We walked across the Mall to the front steps of the Museum of American History, where we split a hotdog and Cheetos. (Only the best in fine dining for Mommy adventures.) Then we went in and searched out the “surprise”—Dorothy’s ruby slippers. She loves the movie, in fact her Uncle W and Aunt R gave her a Wizard of Oz book with a ruby slipper necklace—which she was wearing that day, as it happened.

I held her so she could see into the case. I was hoping she would be as excited about it as I thought. Sure enough, she hugged me tightly and it was all worth it.

We also saw Kermit the Frog, Oscar the Grouch, Mr. Rogers’s sweater, the Doll House, and the First Ladies exhibit. On the way back to the Metro we split a Haagen-Dazs. Again with the eating well. We walked back from the Metro to the apartment and were excited to see Mamala and M sitting on a bench waiting for us.

We had a great time. She was wiped out, although we’d paced ourselves to avoid that overtired preschool meltdown. The only touchy part was right after we left Mamala’s, C started to whimper a little bit. “I miss M, where’s M?” Seemed like a good sign that the two of them will be just fine with one another.

A lovely day.