Dragged Nibbles and Big Byte to The City to checkout a daycare that’s set to open early 2009. The open house crowd was small and Nibbles was the oldest kid in the room. Too exhausted to rant about it. Nibbles got sick on the way back; perhaps due to the very bumpy stroller ride and smoky aromas clouding the air.
In any case, it seemed like an awful idea to think of enrolling him in The City; extremely stupid of me to presume that if he gets shuttled around in a stroller, the commute won’t drain him out.
But it does scare me to imagine him in the care of strangers across the Hudson, with a moody PATH train service between us . It scares me to imagine him in the care of strangers, period. Does it seem silly to explicitly type out “period” when it is in fact followed by one? Whatever.
This is a sour topic at home and at work – daycare, I mean. And all my arguments, convictions and needs seem to fizzle away when questioned by Big Byte or my boss. And it’s not like they’re asking for more than for me to make up my mind. Oh, hello! Is that a crack on the earth waiting to swallow me whole?