The Henry Heartaches

Clara's daycare, which she has now outgrown but which her brother attends, is run by an Argentinian former schoolteacher out of her home.  Her husband (from Iran) goes by the name Henry (which is not the name on his infant CPR certificate . . . but I guess it's *awkward* to have a Muslim name in these here parts these days).  Henry works as a chef at night, but helps out with the children during the day if necessary.  Clara started at daycare when she was nine months old.  Within days she had latched on to Henry as her main man, her choice of lap, the one she wanted always to be with, even if he had to be woken up after his late night of work in order to sit with her and a mug of espresso.  Out of my arms and into Henry's.  Every day.  Until, at 3 and a half, she started at "her new school" for summer camp.  She misses Henry, and I hate that I (well, I and her own increasing age, which isn't my fault) am the architect of the life change that has phased him out of her life almost completely (she still gets to visit sometimes when we pick up Winton but often he isn't there . . . because she isn't there demanding him on a daily basis anymore).

At her new school, Clara immediately befriended an older boy (he's 4).  And his name is??  Yup: HENRY.
Henry.  A sweet boy who drew monsters for Clara, signed his drawings and sent them home with her as gifts.

Now, I've been having a rough week.  First, the final episode of season four of Dexter rendered me fetal and weeping in the kitchen (slippage of barrier between fiction and reality, anyone?).  Second, Hardie (the dog) has spent the last two nights engaged in extensive, slurping, ear-flapping, luxuriantly leisurely and loud grooming between 3 and 4 am.  And finally, I think Winton is at long last teething his last molars (a baby set of teeth is 20 teeth, isn't it?  If he's not teething I have no idea what's wrong with the unfevered but sleepless little man).

In any case, I found out this morning (the first day of the official school year at Clara's new school) that new Henry was only in the same class as Clara over the summer because it was summer camp.  Now, what with him being four and her being three and a half, they don't get to play together.

This feels cataclysmic: to have lost one Henry is terrible, but TWO? My God.  In light of the week so far, this detail alone makes me want to sit under my desk and weep.