So, here I sit, like a nervous police dispatcher, waiting for phone call from my hubby to come through. You see, this morning is the dry run for the much anticipated double-daycare-switch on Tuesday. We made the arduous decision to break–up with both daycares and consolidate. Break-ups are hard…
Sass Monkey’s pre-school break-up wasn't difficult actually. His was the private school gateway daycare. (Faaancy! Bells, whistles, AND MORE!) Basically, you pay an OBSCENE amount of money (they take cash, check and internal organs) and they mold your child into the next great President or Billionaire Humanitarian or whatever. Instead, what we got was a whiney 3 year old who cried about everything and was on the fast track for a pair of hipster jeans and holier-than-thou sneer. *shudder* Now, I get that 3 year olds are whiny and self absorbed as a rule, but they were ENCOURAGING it. It didn't help that his lead teacher was all of 12 years old. She was all education and no experience. Sass Monkey probably took one look at her and thought “oooo, fresh meat!”… and he was right. They also have a woefully inappropriately sized playground and feed my kid salad. Salad?!? Seriously? According to Weight Watchers, Sass Monkey will use no less than 1,256 points a day and you are going to feed him salad? I guess those skinny jeans are really important to you….
Oh Gawd, and the parents at that place… There are a couple who were really great and their kids are great and we will be friends forever.... but the vast majority made me want to vote republican out of spite… which is saying ALOT because right now I don't know that I would brake for Romney (or even slow down a little). If you coddle you child to the point that they can't actually use real words at 3 ½ then, I hate to tell you, but you are doing something so very, very wrong.
Sprinkles’s daycare was the hardest one. She is at this wonderful in-home daycare with this wonderful woman (Meemaw) who loves her and cares about her… but Meemaw is also 83 years old and having trouble lifting her up these days. Meemaw was instrumental in Sprinkles recovery from her Brachial Plexus nerve damage and getting that little arm to move… and then to work. She made sure that all her helpers were shown the proper physical therapy exercises and that Sprinkles got loved and snuggled all day everyday. But, you see, Sprinkles isn't a baby anymore… she needs to do and try and be… and be with other kids her age. She is the youngest at that daycare by ½ a year. She needs friends. She needs to be allowed to wiggle, and fall down, and get back up to wiggle again.
So … it’s just not working out. I didn't Dear John them. I broke-up face to face and it was so, so hard. I had forgotten how hard it is to say those words “We’re/I’m moving on.”
We have made the right decision. The new daycare is older but has several huge playgrounds. They make mud pies and slime as science projects. They want the kids to get dirty and try new things. They feed them actual food instead of rabbit fodder. There are lots and LOTS of kids to play with. This should be good.
I have gotten a report back from Hubby. He’s not sure how he is going to get Sass Monkey to leave as he already has several best friends (this took all of 10 minutes). Sass told my hubby that "I don't like my old school.", and when he was asked why he had decided this, he said "They don't have juice." Fair enough. Sprinkles is nervous but her teacher is a very nice lady who has been working with this age group, in that home room, for 11 years. She already has a friend. A sweet little boy who just walked up to her, plopped down beside her, and tried to get her to play. Those blue eyes will get them every time… J
If they are okay, then I am okay. Everything will be okay. Right?