This week Nathan has been at a new daycare, one we found a day after our other daycare provider gave her notice. It all worked out, despite a few hours of panic and frenetic researching through the Childcare Resources Online database. (If you ever need to find daycare in King County, GO THERE.) We needed a place with a stronger preschool component and one that would be conducive to his speech therapy and we wouldn’t have to change our appointments because of the daycare provider’s sudden schedule changes. The new place is a bit more expensive but exactly what we wanted: an immaculate home with structure and positive guided play.
I worried that he wouldn’t transistion well, that we would be told to find childcare elsewhere because Nathan kept referring the other kids as “Mrs. Torrence,” and carved demonic messages into the Etch-a-Sketch.
When we picked him up the first day, the daycare provider said, “You have a very stable, young man.”
I have never ever heard Nathan referred to as “stable.” Stable is more suited for someone who has sold life insurance for ten years, not a three-year-old who can’t yet pronounce “sleep” properly so instead says, “Mommy, go weep!” I weep all the time, kid. All. The. Time.
The second day, she told us how Nathan really bonded with another three-year-old boy and how she “couldn’t be happier.” I was so proud of him, I wanted to buy him anything he wanted and my debit card could allow, even though he did what any normal human being should do: be nice to others and figure out who you could plan a toddler mutiny with if you had to.
I’m really looking forward to seeing how he develops in this new place. He’s talking alot more and already reading at a higher level, though the material is questionable.