We always knew Dash would go to daycare at some point. We both believe in daycare. I spent the better part of my youth in daycare and it was the setting for some of my fondest memories. Josh & I are agreed that kids who spend time around other kids and adults are just better socialized. They're less anxious and friendlier and more self-assured.
So, when I was knocked up I researched and talked to moms and called centers and settled on an incredibly expensive center walking distance from our house. I met with the director (Miss Gina!) and took a tour and loved what I saw. I saw smiling teachers and happy babies and I felt calm and secure in the knowledge that Dash could spend a couple of days a week there and learn all of those songs every other kid in the universe knows (wait, what happened to the spider?! and he survived!?) and do a little finger painting. Maybe someone there could even get him to nap in a crib? Please?
So, we put Dash in the waiting list. We figured he'd start at around a year old. It didn't seem likely they'd have an opening before December or January.
Then the unthinkable happened.
They have an opening.
He starts October 16.
That is less than two weeks from now.
We could have said "no," but he's ready. He's completely mobile and he's trying hard to get on his feet. He needs stimulation. He needs chaos and laughing and sharing and to get out of the goddamn house. He needs more than he's getting right now.
He'll still be home with the ladies two or three days a week. He'll still get the calm and love and undivided attention that only his Grandmas can offer him. But he also needs a little bit more. And he'll get it at daycare.
I may not survive, though.