Um, well, in the first few days… as easily as you keep tap shoes on a tarantula with restless leg syndrome.
Those first 24 hours saw plenty of tears and several tantrums. Little was all like ‘But I don’t wanna!’ and my sentiments weren’t far off. I mean, really, as if introducing food with bits in it* and trying to entrench ‘snuggle bunny’ as her cant-live-without-it sleep association** weren’t trying enough, now we had to add ‘keep glasses on all day‘ to the Sudocreme scented TO DO list.
The good news is that it wasn’t a smidgen as bad as hubby and I thought it was going to be. In fact, the first day was a breeze as I wasn’t tasked with keeping the #littlelenses on. That rather important job was given to the wonderfully kind, incredibly attentive team at the Magic Beings Baby Center, where Little had spent my working hours since I went back to work at the 4-month mark.
Now rather than having you think I simply ‘outsourced’ this rather challenging piece of parenting because I couldn’t be bothered, let me explain that when a Little is prescribed #littlelenses they need to start wearing them right away. No delay. I picked up our #littlenses from the super helpful, über efficient optometrist late on afternoon and the following morning I left her***, tugging away at the weird things on her face in the arms of her ‘teacher’. I proceeded to then have a good old-fashioned ugly cry in my car cocoon in the parking lot.
That afternoon, when I fetched her, I didn’t come barreling through the doors like I usually did**** I tiptoed in, crept up to the door and peered through the glass to see what I was walking into. Where I had expected tear-stained cheeks, I saw an ear-to-ear grin, where I’d expected to hear niggles, I heard giggles… there was my Little, sitting on the floor playing with some toys just like she had been the day before, and the day before that. There was no tugging at the frames or fingerprint painting on the lenses. It was business as usual******.
She’d adjusted. And now, so I could I.
**Little does not take a dummy, thinks ‘the ultimate doodoo blanklie’ was made for flinging (out her cot, at my head) and has a meltdown worthy of a Kardashian should one attempt to use her Sleep Sheep for white noise making instead of past-her-bedtime-playing. Disclaimer: That’s not to say that any/all of the above do not work beautifully for other Little, just not for mine.
*** tears streaming, mascara blotching, blubbering worse than the first day I left her at créche.
****like a Sandtonite – with daddy’s credit card – into Top Shop***** during the January sales.
***** The Oxford Street flagship one in London.
****** It helps that Little’s Julbo BeeBops have a clever bra strap-like strappy thing that wraps around the back of Little’s head.