It's that time of life. I start working, you start daycare. We have two weeks to acclimate you. For now, you are the youngest in the class. In September, they will move the "big" kids (those who turned two) to another class, and bring in some kids your age from the class below.
Here is what we did this week as part of the acclimation process:
Day 1 - 8:30am-10:00am
We went together, and I stayed with you the whole time. You were happy to see other kids, and you mingled easily. First you played outside as I sat and watched. Then we all went inside for the morning snack. I sat you next to Ellie who was very sweet, and kept saying "Hi Zoe." When it was time to leave, you resisted my pull, and reached toward the kids, wanting to stay longer.
Day 2 - 8:15am-10:am
I stayed with you half an hour, and left. When I came back, you were in the play room, sitting on the floor, on the teacher's lap, crying, surrounded by all the children. The teacher said you just started crying, probably worried that I wasn't back yet. She said Luke brought you toys to play and cheered you up. Too bad Luke will move to a higher class in September. When we left the classroom, the kids crowded behind the door, faces and hands pressed against the glass, probably wishing their moms would take them too. Everyone who's been to daycare knows these feelings all too well, no matter how much fun they are having.
Day 3 - 8:15am-10:am
Papa and I dropped you off together and stayed for half an hour. Papa was sad to see that you were the youngest, and not as interactive as the older kids. You are new, and younger, so it's normal. On the other hand, you are more mobile and interactive than the kids in your age group. In September your class will have a good mix of kids and you will fit right in. When I came to pick you up, you were in the play room, reading books with other kids.
When you saw me, you wanted out.
Day 4
8:15am-10:am
On the drive to daycare, it took my brain several seconds to connect the smell in my nose to your bum. When we arrived, we first changed your poopy diaper. If you fought less, we could have done it faster. By the time we were done, some of the kids were outside on the playground. I stayed with you for a few minutes, kissed you goodbye, and left. When I came back, you were sitting on the teacher's lap, reading a book with Ellie.
I greeted you. You were doing ok, so I went to talk to the other teacher. Two minutes later I turn around and see a teacher holding my sobbing Zoe, tears running down her eyes. I think you were upset that I just greeted you and walk away, without picking you up. Sorry little one, you seemed interested in the book. You showed it to me when I came in, and went back to reading. We quickly put on your shoes, and before we were able to leave the building, you insisted on nursing. We sat on the floor in an empty classroom, and had a long nursing session, and your face relaxed.
Day 5
8:30-12:30
Impatient to see you, I came 15 minutes early and peeked through the glass door. When you saw me, you started crying. The teacher said you did ok while I was gone, but kept going to the door looking for me.
Before we left, we had lunch with your friends. I prepared steamed carrots and broccoli, hard boiled egg, and grapes for us. Judging by the food in other kids' boxes, the parents were knowledgeable about nutrition. Too bad not much made it to the kids' stomach. Maybe it was the cheap, adult-size spoons you were given, or the lack of feeding help offered. I was relieved that no prayer was said, a rare event in a Texas daycare.
You sat next to Charlotte and across from Oona. I sat between you and Boone, who was trying to grab his rice with his hand, and losing the few grains he caught before they made it to his mouth. He gave a few desperate attempts to the long spoon, and switched back to the finger technique. He was clearly hungry. I grabbed the spoon, filled it up, and said "Boone, open your mouth - haaam." He ate, and smiled.
Across from you, Oona was engrossed in her own battle with saucy beans, also going back and forth between the ridiculous spoon and her little hand. Between you and Boon, by the time I was able to assist her, she spilled her bean box on the floor and on her lap. She had a squeezy bag of fruit paste which she didn't know how to use, so she moved on to eat Boone's grapes. In about 15 minutes the teacher started "asking" if you were all done and rushed everyone to clean and nap.
The quiet Charlotte obeyed the teacher's orders and got up, looking at her unfinished scrambled eggs. "You didn't like your eggs?" the teacher asked. She probably did. Charlotte looked like a child who enjoyed food, if she only was given some time to eat! She eyed your grapes shyly, and you offered her one. She dropped it, and got under the table to get it. On her way up she hit her head, and returned the grape to you. I wish she would have eaten the grape.
The whole lunch scene was sad and absurd, especially for an expensive daycare in a high end neighborhood - you can tell by the children's names. It got me thinking that I should have put you in a daycare on the East side, with Hispanic teachers, who are more maternal and more likely to feed the babies. The teacher explained that babies need practice to learn to eat on their own. Can't they also put a few bites in your mouths while you're practicing?
After lunch, as the babies were getting ready for their nap, you were ready to leave for the weekend.
Impatient to see you, I came 15 minutes early and peeked through the glass door. When you saw me, you started crying. The teacher said you did ok while I was gone, but kept going to the door looking for me.
Before we left, we had lunch with your friends. I prepared steamed carrots and broccoli, hard boiled egg, and grapes for us. Judging by the food in other kids' boxes, the parents were knowledgeable about nutrition. Too bad not much made it to the kids' stomach. Maybe it was the cheap, adult-size spoons you were given, or the lack of feeding help offered. I was relieved that no prayer was said, a rare event in a Texas daycare.
You sat next to Charlotte and across from Oona. I sat between you and Boone, who was trying to grab his rice with his hand, and losing the few grains he caught before they made it to his mouth. He gave a few desperate attempts to the long spoon, and switched back to the finger technique. He was clearly hungry. I grabbed the spoon, filled it up, and said "Boone, open your mouth - haaam." He ate, and smiled.
Across from you, Oona was engrossed in her own battle with saucy beans, also going back and forth between the ridiculous spoon and her little hand. Between you and Boon, by the time I was able to assist her, she spilled her bean box on the floor and on her lap. She had a squeezy bag of fruit paste which she didn't know how to use, so she moved on to eat Boone's grapes. In about 15 minutes the teacher started "asking" if you were all done and rushed everyone to clean and nap.
The quiet Charlotte obeyed the teacher's orders and got up, looking at her unfinished scrambled eggs. "You didn't like your eggs?" the teacher asked. She probably did. Charlotte looked like a child who enjoyed food, if she only was given some time to eat! She eyed your grapes shyly, and you offered her one. She dropped it, and got under the table to get it. On her way up she hit her head, and returned the grape to you. I wish she would have eaten the grape.
The whole lunch scene was sad and absurd, especially for an expensive daycare in a high end neighborhood - you can tell by the children's names. It got me thinking that I should have put you in a daycare on the East side, with Hispanic teachers, who are more maternal and more likely to feed the babies. The teacher explained that babies need practice to learn to eat on their own. Can't they also put a few bites in your mouths while you're practicing?
After lunch, as the babies were getting ready for their nap, you were ready to leave for the weekend.
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