Missing my boy

I always miss Wild Man on Thursdays as I am on campus from 9:00 until 6:00 (I teach, do research, and take a class in the late afternoon). On an average Thursday, however, C picks Wild Man up at the usual time, and they have a daddy-son afternoon. By the time I get home around 6:20 or so, C is scrubbing the remainder of their daddy-son afternoon off of Wild Man as Wild Man splashes around in the bathtub (in our house, daddy-son afternoons always equal dirt and lots of it!). This afternoon C is out of town, and since I didn't want to miss my class, I asked a good friend to pick Wild Man up at school when he picked up his daughter and take Wild Man home with them for the afternoon. This friend generously agreed to do this for us, and I am very thankful. I know that Wild Man is in great hands and that he is having a blast with his buddy. In fact, when I explained to him that he would be going home with this particular friend he immediately began chanting her name and searching for her in our house, as if she would magically appear just because he was calling her name. But this is the first time someone other than C or me has ever picked him up from school, and that makes me a little sad. I'm counting the minutes till my class is over, and I can go get him and give him lots of hugs and kisses.