Monday, November 23, 2015

My Daughter is a Special Snowflake


The other day I went to pick Audra up from daycare.

When I walked in, the room appeared empty except for two of the daycare ladies sitting in chairs gently rocking the smallest and youngest of the babies in the Baby Room.

These babies make my heart hurt, by the way, to once again have my own tiny four-month-old babypotato. Then if I think about the idea too much my bank account hurts.

But anyway.

 The whole place was utterly, eerily quiet.

No playing babies squeaking, shrieking, or squealing at each other in Baby Language. No babies crying while being put through The Utter Horror That is a Diaper Change. No babies two inches shorter than mine running circles around her while she steadfastly refuses to walk even though I've seen you do it, Audra, everyone knows you totally could walk if you wanted to.

It was like the beginning of a zombie movie.

Or like the way the water looks right before Jaws attacks. 

I grabbed Audra's bag off the coatrack, and took another look around. Only those two little babies?

No toddlers. Not even that one little boy who always insists I'm his mother no matter how I try to convince him otherwise.

Nothing at all.

"Um," I finally said, looking around again. "Where are the babies? Where's my baby?"

One of the daycare ladies in the rocker laughed and gestured around a wall, where I couldn't quite see. "They're all over here."

I all but tiptoed, unnerved by the quiet of a room that is normally nearly so deafening I wonder how the daycare ladies can even hear each other, and stuck my head around the corner...

A third daycare lady stood there, patiently blowing soap bubbles, surrounding by a rough semicircle of every baby capable of moving under their own power. Ten little sets of eyes followed her every move.

Ten little babies and young toddlers, awed into abject silence.

Audra was kneeling, her eyes wide, following the way the bubble seemed to float through the air. Her little hands worried at each other.

When I called her name, she turned and saw me, breaking ranks to frantically scoot my way. Babbling with excitement, she pointed back at the soap bubble lady, I suppose just to ensure I had seen the amazingly cool thing happening over there.

As I swung her up into my arms, one of the daycare ladies in the rockers turned to me and said, with a huge smile, "For the record, yours was the only baby trying to pop them."

Yeah.

Sounds about right. 

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