The Daycare (An Age-Reggresion Story)

Chapter 9 - Baby's DIY

We made it back to the Daycare after a thorough comb of the store and waltzed in with the goodies. A bag was kept for me in the back seat of Mr. Jamie's car filled with, as he said, "a few surprises" for later tonight. Before I could ask what it contained, he left me with his Abuela to babysit me while he gathered whatever it is he needed. I was still somehow happy to be taken away from his attention because that meant his abuela could tell me embarrassing stories about him but my search was barely successful. She could not keep onto one story to save her life, but I enjoyed her "babysitting" nonetheless. 

Thinking back at it, it dawned on me that I was really heading home with him. I bit my lip in embarrassment, and I felt his thumb pull it gently out of place. "Hey there, no, you have this for that", he popped the pacifier from earlier into my mouth before I could protest. I looked up at him in disgust as I expected it to be floor flavored, but he replied as if he could read my thoughts, "I cleaned it after you decided to chuck it." I looked at him ashamed and he reached down to squeeze my hand. "It's alright cariño, it's a lot to take in at one time. Just let go, you can be a kid again, todo es bien." His words had something over me as they soothed the harshest worry in my mind in an instant.

He led me back into the building with an armful of bags and the familiar receptionist desk came into view. Ms.Rose accompanied the area with the teddy-bear boy still glued to her hip. She gave us a friendly smile and put in an extra wink at me as she saw Mr. Jamie's hand interwoven with mine. We moved past the front double doors to the hallway where a tall brute stood with his smaller half. Eme squealed as she saw me, ripping me from Mr.Jamie's grip to pull me into a tight hug.

"Dere you are Ro-ra!", she beamed with excitement in her baby-like voice. Her smile was bright enough to light up a whole room. "Let's go! Craft time! Craft time!", she jumped up and down in place. She started to drag me down the hall but I looked back at Mr. Jamie as to ask for permission. He gave me a knowing nod as if to grant me said permission while handing the grocery bags to Mr.King. I let Eme lead me down the hall and to the left to a room that was filled with a large amount of excited voices. Above the door there was a sign with "Craft Room" across it with cartooned scissors and glue. I beamed at Eme and slipped inside and let my eyes wander across the room. 

Round tables littered the room with the same colorful plastic chairs that were in the cafe. Drawings of all kinds, ranging from childish to extremely detailed, were taped up onto the pastel walls. It was roughly the side of a large classroom inside and had different shelf-cubicles that held many craft items along the walls. Plush carpets were under each table, shielding people's feet from the cold white tile floor that was throughout the building. A gentleman with bright red hair tied back in a man bun and a matching groomed beard walked around each table with his hands tucked behind his back. He cooed and cheered on each creation and looked up at the two new girls entering his room. 

He was a little bit different from the rest of the caregivers, as he was in more casual clothing. He wore a white t-shirt under a red and black flannel with form-fitting jeans and black hiker boots. If I had to place him in any fashion category I would definitely say he was a hipster. He walked over to us rather quickly, as his long legs would make a slow walk into a large stride. He smiled down at us and held out his hand to me. "Ah, Eme has a new friend!", he spoke with a Californian accent and I shook his hand back. "Welcome to the craft room! I'm the instructor Mr. Chase and today we are decorating onesies, would you like to join?" He encouraged with a smile and pointed over to an empty table stacked with blank white onesies. 

Each size ranged from XXS to XXXXL, showcasing a range for all sorts of littles. I hurried over to the table and swiped a XL, smiling at it and its potential. Eme shyly walked over to the smallest size they had and took it with a grimace. I patted her back in encouragement and she gave me a knowing smile as to tell me she was okay. It was pretty much self explanatory, you could write, glue, and sew stuff onto the onesies, with the help of the teacher of course. I sat down at a mostly empty table with Eme and unfolded the onesie with anticipation.