The weeks leading up to the first day of daycare were horrendously scary for me. I pictured my little one being ignored, or yelled at, or ignored and then yelled at, or hurt then ignored and then yelled at… you get the picture. Little did I know 7 months later that it wasn’t the teachers I should have been worried about.
I’m going to preface this by saying that I have always loved kids and after having one of my own, I now have this weird new spot in my brain nestled tightly between the part that’s full of my rainbow colored optimism and the other part that knows how to fix computers, and this new growth makes me fall in love with every kid I see. Call it my very own child love lobe. I now think kids are the keeyootist little things whether they are laughing, playing and running around like little maniacs, or drooling, crying and pooping out the sides of their diapers. I may throw your kid back to you if they puke on me, but aside from that, I will snuggle them within an inch of their lives.
So I love kids. We’ve got that.
But I have discovered that there is an exception. She’s a little fireball of a toddler a few months younger than Summer and let me tell you, this child has crazy in her eyes. She’s a beastly little thing and she’s been beating up on my Summer. I’ve seen her full force, 2-handedly ram her into the wall. I’ve seen her rip Summer’s monkey blankie out of her hand and wave it in her face smiling while Summer wailed. I’ve seen her hit, grab, pinch, punch, chase, push and throw things at the other kids in the room. She’s even done it to me.
I am proud to say that I have seen Summer stick up for herself and hold her own, once recently literally Three Stooges poking this girl in both eyeballs when she came after my baby (which I certainly don’t condone but damn it was a good move). But those moments of pride that come from knowing I’m raising a girl who can stick up for herself are quickly diffused when we get home and my sweet little bubba looks me in the eye and slaps me in the face and then points her little pointer finger at me declaring “no hitting!” like I’m sure her daycare teacher does (the correcting, not the slapping). The bad behaviors are starting to be mimicked at home and I’m not a fan in the slightest.
And when I went to pick up Summer and talked to her teacher, she informed me that this girl was on a rampage that day, and so the teacher had put Summer and another girl in highchairs to get them out of this little beast’s way.
Now on the one hand, I appreciate, completely 100% wholeheartedly appreciate the fact that she was protecting my baby from this devil child. She would have put the bully in the highchair but the girl knows how to wiggle out of it. I know her teacher didn’t just plop Summer in there and walk away, and I can pretty much guarantee that she was better off in that chair than down on the ground with Satan’s offspring. However, I don’t like the fact that this is even happening in the first place. I don’t like that my little one is being restrained for protection. This normally calm loving Mama Bear can feel a fury starting to build at the thought of someone picking on my kid or trying to hurt her, I don’t care how old they are.
We said something once before and nothing changed. We said something again yesterday and they’re having a staff meeting and talking to the parents. Only time will tell if it makes a difference.
Until then, keep on flying with your head held high my Superbaby, and I’ll protect you till the day I die.