Now and then, by Sunday night, I’m excited for the work week to start because Ryan has been practicing his outdoor voice all weekend long and/or has decided that naps are for wussies.
That’s why I can’t imagine working in a daycare. I’m there for 6 minutes every day, and that’s just about my limit. Someone is always crying or yelling or crawling on top of another kid.
(One time, Miss Kayla told me that for one glorious hour, ALL of the kids napped at the SAME TIME. All the kids except for Ryan, that is. Gulp.)
I’ve been vaguely wondering how they cope all day, five days a week. How do they listen to the incessant crying and whining and not run screaming out the door? How do they keep all those kids entertained?
Today, I think I got my answer.
As I approached the infant room, something seemed off. It was… quiet? Quiet, except for a soft clacking noise. I stepped through the doorway and there was Miss Kayla, standing in the middle of the room with a blank look on her face. Three kids – including mine – were sitting on the floor, facing her. They stared at her with 100 percent of their attention as she slapped the sticks together, over and over.
Whap, whap, whap.
“Uh. Is this what desperation looks like?” I asked, as Ryan glanced at me and grinned.
“Listen. It’s working. I do whatever it takes.”
Now that’s dedication.
I wonder where she got the sticks.