Normally the husband of our daycare provider is there in the afternoons most days of the week when we come to pick up our little girl. He’ll arrive a few minutes before we get there, so that he can help his wife bundle up the kids and get them out the door as parents arrive for the afternoon rush. As he’s not with the kids all day, he can’t really give you a detailed exposition on your child’s day. That’s the wife’s job.

So when he opens up with a line like that, you know that you’re in trouble. Because your kid is in trouble.

I could see that in my daughter’s face as she walked down the stairs. Her lip was already protruding in a pout that staggers belief. She ran up to me and just collapsed into my arms, molding her small body around my torso and shoulders as I picked her up.

The daycare provider appeared at the top of the stairs, giving me the basic overview: not paying attention, talking back, not cleaning up. The list went on.

We talked for a few minutes while I put my daughter together and then she and I headed for the door. Just before I opened it, my daughter looked up at me and said, “…sticker?” Stickers (for the younger kids) and small treats (for the older ones) are given out each day as the kids leave. Every day, for the past several months, my daughter has investigated the bowl of stickers from top to bottom, looking for the perfect one.

“No, no stickers today,” said the daycare provider.

I stared at the woman for a few moments, blankly.

Then it dawned on me.

My daughter had been that bad.

….I could see it would be a long evening.

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