Damn Daycare

Usually I refrain from demonstrating what a foul mouth I sometimes possess... but this is not one of those times.  Potty mouths are appropriate when daycare providers begin to get ridiculous with power...

Last Friday, Chi brought Doritos with her for a morning snack.  In past weeks (since August), she had been permitted to set up her "meal" of whatever at the dinning tables in the classroom.  No one said a word and other kids were also eating.  But, arbitrarily effective Friday, I was told that the "rule" was "no outside food after 6:30 a.m." and was told Chi'd have to put away the chips. 

Um, okay... that's a new one.  When I innocently said "Since when? They really ought to post rules when they make them,"   the attendant said "It's on the parent's corner."  I don't know what that board is or where it is located, but the damn thing must be of Biblical importance. (Is it sacrilegious to curse in the same sentence as Bible?)

I then sauntered out to the front counter (where they have lovingly provided complimentary coffee that I drink daily from a 'to go' cup), I mentioned to the tattooed up attendant that I thought it cruel to enforce a rule all of a sudden - especially since Chi's from a line of diabetics and needs to eat when she gets up (not at 8:30 a.m. when breakfast is finally served).  She called the other attendant and told her to let Chi eat.  Apparently, she didn't get to, though.

When I returned to pick her up after work, I was accosted by the assistant director - who I am sure has flagged my file with "Parent is a Bitch" - who berated me in front of the staff about the Doritos.  "Um, you said Laura had breakfast and needed to eat, but all she has in her cubby was Doritos.  The policy is no outside food after 6:30 a.m.  It's in the handbook and on the Parent's Corner."

I then inquired why that was necessary if the kid needed to eat in the two hour time span between waking and being served breakfast.  She replied, "It's to prevent allergies."  I said, clearly you cannot believe what I give my own child would be something she's allergic to.  She retorts, "Yes, well, other kids tend to help themselves."  Then she adds, "Maybe she could eat on her way around the corner." 

In my car?  Hell, no.

Now I'm usually a relatively passive-aggressive person.  I talk a good game (in private, where the target of my wrath can't hear me and plot revenge).  But this is a bit ridiculous...

So, I resign myself to having Chi sit in the lobby with her snack of choice before she enters the sacred classroom.  She does this on Monday.  The director sees me come in to pick up Chi, hides in her office, then closes the door when she catches my eye.  Could it be she wants no possibility of discussion?

Today, as Chi and I walk into her classroom, a parent is settling her son down to - you guessed it - breakfast!  The same attendant who told me and Chi to put away the oh-so-offensive Doritos is helping to open a bag of chocolate muffins!  Come on.  Chocolate cakes masquerading as breakfast treats are no less awful than our Doritos.

Then as the mother leaves (I'm sure she could feel the glare burning into her skull and sense my smirk of disgust), she talks to the same desk attendant who deemed my Doritos unacceptable.  She says innocently enough, "yeah, she said she'd talk to Liza about it - - if he eats before he goes to his classroom. I figure if he can't eat next time, he can at least have his juice.  She said he doesn't share his food anyway."

Hold up, wait a minute!!!! 

So, it's okay for this little one to eat chocolate muffins, but Chi can't eat anything after 6:30 a.m. (it was 7 a.m. already).

Chi isn't feeling well.  Has an awful cough.  So I ditch work early and pick her up.  Asst. Director sees me shoot her the evil I without a word of "greeting,"  I swope in and snatch up Chi, wrestle her out of her blanket and into her coat, and proceed at top speed toward the exit.  I hear a faint "Have a good day" from behind (the Asst. Director).  I mumble, "You too," though I'm sure it was clear from my tone that I was wishing something else entirely.

Damn daycare giving me agita.