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July 20, 2006



I just looked at that website briefly. Do they mention any alternatives or are they just bitching?

Mama G

I feel for you ... daycare shopping simply sucks. But at least you are realistic enough to know that not one of them is 100% perfect. That's half the battle! Good luck ... with both the search for daycare and the job!


When my parents and I moved to the USA for a while back in the mid-'80s, they put me in daycare for a while because they had to work and I wasn't yet old enough for preschool/1st grade. (The daycare cost $50 a week, and I was around 4 years old.)

I remember things from that experience, so you can imagine how much of an impact those days made on me. They forced you to eat and sleep at specific times, but that was kind of expected back then -- what was not was how they enforced this thing. I remember one girl screaming and crying because she didn't want to eat the spaghetti that they'd made for us for lunch that day. One of the caregivers forced her to eat every single bite even when she said she wasn't hungry, didn't want to, felt sick, etc. Of course, she threw up five minutes after she finished. She was forced to help clean the mess and was then punished by being told to sit in a corner for the rest of the day.

I remember vividly something that happened to me. We were given these coloring sheets with a flag pole and a blank flag on it, and told to color the flag. They didn't specify anything other than that, so I decided to color my flag purple and blue, with little red hearts. One of the caregivers came by, saw what I was doing, and dragged me over to the American flag that was propped up in a corner of the room.

"What colors are that flag?" she asked me.

I was scared. I didn't know what I had done wrong, but I was sure it was -something-, seeing as how I was singled out and she's pressing me hard against her side. I didn't say anything, too nervous and scared to do so.

"I asked you a question. What are the colors on that flag?"

I remember not daring to look at her face, instead staring at her throat, noting the gold necklace she wore and the fact that she was showing a bit of cleavage. (Of course I didn't know it was called cleavage then.)

"Blue, red, and white," I whispered miserably.

"And it has stars on it," she said. "Now, what kind of flag is purple and has hearts? Not the American flag, and surely not the flag of your country. You're in America. Don't you know what the flag looks like?"

She guided me over to the table, took my coloring sheet and tore it in half, then gave me another one. "Here, do it over. I want the American flag this time. If you don't remember what it looks like, go over to the corner and look at it. I don't want any more purple flags from you."

It doesn't seem that big a deal now, but I can tell you that I was terrified and quite embarrassed. I also ate lunch late that day, since it was insisted that I finish the flag before I could start eating.


Yikes, sorry about that long-ass comment. I got a bit carried away there, heh. :)

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