Every day, pandemic times excluded, I took the kiddo to a daycare.
First time I went there, I stood in the parking lot for a bit.
The place looked a bit shabby, the tiny courtyard needed some love.
And I was to leave my kiddo in the hands of very kind, professional strangers.
Kiddo cried every morning for a month. Every afternoon after snack time, kiddo would wait by the door until I came.
Then, kiddo would happily leave my arms to go play with the others kids. Daycare teachers were kiddo’s friends. Everything they did was so excitting, every song they taught so funny !
Kiddo learned so much, grew up so much among this strange daycare family.
Four years later, on a warm June afternoon, the very kind, professional daycare teachers, by then part of our family as well, organized a little graduation ceremony for the 4-5 years old group.
Kiddo in the graduation gown and mortarboard (yep, the square hat has a name!) was simply breathtaking!
Yesterday morning, a city bus driver drove into a daycare facility in Laval, a big city on the North shore of the St Lawrence river, about an hour drive from where we live.
Two four or five years old kiddo’s will never have a silly little graduation on a warm June afternoon.
My heart is broken. All our hearts are broken.
No words for the stories this morning.