We're finally trying to find a daycare for J. He's more than ready for the social interaction of other 2-year-olds and is practically begging us to take him to "school." Sadly, finding a suitable daycare is about as difficult as finding a new house. Yes, Julie and I are probably too picky and never being able to agree on anything doesn't help. But the quality of the places we've visited so far is, um, lacking. Lacking to the point where I wonder why anyone sends their kids to daycare. The infant areas are like little prisons with rows of babies just staring out at each other from behind bars. They look like they're likely to have human contact maybe twice a day. And one place we visited smelled like cats. Which didn't seem so bad when the next place we visited smelled like wet cats.
And then there was the place we visited on Friday. The director of this fine establishment managed to take her daycare out of the running with three little words.
After finishing up a nice little tour of the facility, we headed back up to the office to get some additional information. I can't even remember what the conversation was, but at one point she was making a comment about one of the many toddlers we had just met. Recalling one boy in particular, she looked at me and said, "you know, the dark one." That's right. She referred to one of the black kids in her daycare as "the dark one."
Are you friggin' kidding me? Needless to say, J will not be receiving his early childhood education from "the crazy, white, ignorant, inbred, racist one."