The baby is crying and crying and crying. She’s clinging to her father, grimacing in terror, while around her awkwardly stand four other toddlers, plastic cars in their fat hands, looks of perplexity on their round faces. What is going through their minds? I wonder, glad that the crying child isn’t actually mine. My Sasha is one of the watchers, and soon she turns away, walks over to a miniature table and overturns a box of toys.
This is Sasha’s first day of day care (unlike Nate’s and Ted’s kids, Sasha’s not old enough to be rejected from universal pre-K), and she seems utterly indifferent to the fact that five minutes ago her mother left and that in another five I’ll be gone too. She’s her usual outgoing, independent self, and is delighted to find chairs she can climb up into and a new batch of books to rend and consume. So what if Mom and Dad won’t be around? There’s fun to be had!
Isn’t it supposed to be harder than this? In preparation for today, I’ve been reading various Websites for advice—give the kid a favorite toy or favorite food, bring a family photo the teacher can show her—and we’ve been carefully referring to it as “school” not “day care” or “babysitting.” And we limited our time in the classroom so she wouldn’t expect us to be there all day.
Huh. I guess those things work. The only thing we weren’t prepared for is that Sasha wouldn’t really need us around.
Of course, this is still her first day. I’m half-expecting to pick her up this evening and find the classroom a shambles, the teacher wounded and bald, the other kids cowering in fear of Sasha, and the administrator holding up a large check and asking me never to return. Stay tuned…