Sleepy Time Daycare

“You don’t like that.” As a small child these were the guiding words I often heard from my brother, and for me no other judgment was needed. Maybe I was a lazy child and I didn’t want to take time to form options myself. He was older, he had already figured these things out why shouldn’t I benefit from his knowledge. There was no need for me to try anything. Whatever likes and disliked he had - I now had the same. My brother felt it was his duty to protect me from olives, most vegetables and anything that didn’t involve sports. He was older and wiser and was determined to pass this knowledge on to me. I didn’t really have a choice. Later in life I would fail him as I went on to discover that I liked most vegetables and detested most sports, but he was right about olives. However, at this time I was still his disciple in all things.
Our parents both taught school in the next county. This meant their day started early. During the school year my brother and I were both entrusted into the care of Odessa. While I wouldn’t always believe the sun rose and set on my older brother, my faith for Odessa never wavered. However, on this faithful morning Odessa was unable to come in. Mom hurriedly made arrangements to take us to a daycare with the quant name of Sleepy Time. Sleepy Time was an old converted house off a major thoroughfare. Out front was a black backed neon sign half faded with a child sleeping and little “z”s coming from his head. It suggested that your child would sleep in some kind of eternal darkness. Why a parent would trust a place that looked like it was conceived by Norman Bates I will never know. Mom was desperate, but the other children there – their parents owe them an explanation.
As Mom left us half asleep we watched her drive away not knowing what to do next or if she would ever return. As we took in our surroundings Steven whispered in my ear that we didn’t like this place. I think without his help I would have formed the same conclusion. We stood in the entrance hall where Mom had left us with our coats still on holding hands. We dumbly followed the orders of a stranger woman as she told us to hang up our jackets. Then, however she started taking Steven upstairs and another woman appeared and was taking me in the direction of another room. Steven escaped from the stranger woman and grabbed my hand and told me not to move. The teacher reached down and started to pick me up. I did the only thing a 3 year old can do. I cried. I cried as if the world was ending. She was so taken back that she just froze. I would think she would be used to crying children, but I did have a good set of lungs on me. My brother then started running pulling me in tow. We ran straight into the fireplace of what used to be the den in the house and wedged ourselves inside. I continued to cry. Anytime someone got near us, I would cry. So, there we stood in the fireplace all day. Neither of us would come out, not to eat, play. No amount of coaxing or threats would get us to move. They decided ignoring us would work, as we would get bored and come out to play. Steven and I didn’t move an inch.
I feel so sorry now for the sight my Mom must have seen when she came to pick us up that afternoon. Here her two sons stood in the fireplace, me still balling my eyes out until I heard her voice. Then we ran to her covered in soot. My memories of what happened next aren’t really clear, but I know we never returned to Sleepy Time. I’m sure there was mutual agreement on that. When my brother and I both started kindergarten the next year, they put us in separate facilities, but that is another story.

However, that wasn't my last encounter with the Sleepy Time daycare......