Dejá Shoe

Kaya was about 6 weeks old when I wrote Off Kilter about some offending baby foot wear. Some mamma’s never learn… (at least not fast enough!)

Launching myself over the baby gate, I speed walk out the daycare to the sounds of my child wailing. I laugh at my naivete that daycare would be easy for us. Nevermind that I can drop her off at friends houses she barely knows without so much as a tear, daycare is evil apparently. All those sandboxes and play kitchens and jolly, happy adults actually trained in the upbringing of children are no good. She much prefers a mom who lets her cut her hands up in the heat register and a dad who thinks the 5 basic food groups all have rice in them.

To be fair, she actually quite enjoys daycare. She gets to eat a lot, sleep very little, and make pancakes. Her mom NEVER makes pancakes. It is only the mom drop off and dads pick up that she acts up, and down and tantrums all around…

It has been an all around grumpy morning. She is holding her right arm as if it is sore. She grabs her left toe bellowing as if she stubbed it. She shoves her entire hand in her mouth trying to ease the three eye teeth coming in annoyingly all at once. She may be sick too, although she has no fever. I checked. My point being, I have no idea what, if anything, or everything, is bugging her.

Part of me wants to stay home and cuddle with her all day skipping daycare and work. The other part can not wait to drop her the hell off at daycare (if I’m being completely honest!) But then I do drop her off. And she screams. I depart as quickly as I can, running down the stairs until I can no longer hear her cries. I do, however, note my own sniffles.

At 4pm it is dad’s turn. He lasts 30 minutes before calling me. “She won’t stop screaming!” he pleads. “She sounds like she’s in pain and won’t leave my lap.” He puts me on speaker phone and my voice calms her. She even manages a giggle. While she’s distracted, Bal takes off her shoes and notices a tight ring around her ankle. That can not be it he thinks. Tight shoes can not be the culprit! But it is. They have been cutting off her circulation and she’s been trying to tell someone, anyone, all day. After taking them off, she is as pleasant as can be. She runs, twirls and leaps in the grass in barefeet. She tosses Mega blocks and chases Riley. She is happy again.

I suppose I should confess to her daycare teachers that her state of discontent lies in her overly sensitive ankles but I may just let them continue thinking it’s the longing for her mamma making her blue. Just for a little while anyways…


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