As children my brother and I were babysat in the homes of other families.
No daycare centres, no circle times, and no set activities provided to assist us in our development.
We were dropped off, left to play with other children, and then picked up.
There was no reporting authority if something went wrong, and should there have been a complaint that wasn’t resolved then we were moved to a new babysitter.
I didn’t want that for my child.
We chose daycare for the security of the centre, the routine, the number of employees, and their reporting practices.
We chose OUR daycare because of its beautiful decorating, clean rooms, friendly engaging staff, and welcoming environment.
Today we interviewed a new daycare.
Our last day at the daycare we love is tomorrow because, as you all know, we cannot afford our current location and subsidy is not willing to assist us any longer.
The new daycare is registered, however, it is in someone’s home.
My anxiety level was high on our way to her home and I obsessed over my list of questions. How many meals a day; where do the children sleep; what type of discipline did she believe in; did she have a routine; how many kids went there; did she play music at nap time?
As we pulled into her driveway I felt my throat swell with fear.
Her double doors were lit up, welcoming us.
Before reaching the bell she opened the door and introduced herself, speaking in a sweet English accent and excusing the mess.
The house was spotless.
We walked into a huge entrance way and I took in her beautiful tile floors, huge staircase and, to the left, her giant formal sitting room. She took our coats and led us right into a gleaming kitchen and dinning room and then into a huge family room.
A full, set up daycare with every toy, climbing apparatus, pretend kitchen, train, table, craft, and puzzle imaginable.
My daughters dream.
We talked, played, and planned for an hour.
We giggled, laughed, and swooned.
And my mind was changed.
She starts on Monday.