So, my wife, "la dra.," is in Kansas City at a conference.  She left yesterday, and we pick her up at Meadows Field on Saturday night.  While we've recently done some nights-without-the-parents-at-the-grandparents' (for the first time) and had one night where la dra. was away for a one-day conference, this is the first time The Pumpkin will not see her mama (and just her mama) for several days.

So far, she's been fine, no "I miss/want Mama!" meltdowns (yet--I'd knock on wood, but my workspace is all  plastic and metal and fiberboard).  But just to be on the safe side, I've scheduled a lot of evening "friend" time to distract her from her mother's absence.  Last night, we had dinner with her BFF (and BFF's mommy and baby brother) and then we all met up at the Beale Library for a cool performance by folk musician and storyteller David Holt.  (Unfortunately, the three toddlers' rambunctiousness forced us to leave both the auditorium and the whole library early, right before he actually invited the kids to the stage to dance!  D'oh!)  Tonight, we're gonna hang at BFF's house after school (where she will also see and play with said BFF).

All of which makes what happened this morning even stranger.  Over breakfast, I gave her the thank-you card from BFF's recent birthday, which has her picture on it.  Right then, la dra. called to say good morning and check in--but even before I put the phone on speaker, The Pumpkin's whole demeanor had changed.  She was frowning her sad-face, with her head down on her arms on the table, with one hand still gripping the thank-you card.  "Are you crying, baby?  Are you sad?  It's Mama on the phone," I said.  We both assumed she'd been stricken suddenly with the realization of her absense.

But finally, as I gathered her into my lap, she spoke.  "I miss BFF."  BFF?  But sweetie, you just saw her last night, you're going to see her in like an hour, and then we're going to her house for dinner!  Did we hear you right?  You miss Mama?  Say hi, she's on the phone!

"I miss BFF," she repeated, in her saddest non-crying voice I've ever heard.

Transference?  Easier to deal with missing her friend, who she'll see momentarily, than her mama, who won't be home for days?  Or just the emotional life of a three-year-old?  I have no idea.