Children Fill Care Center Like High Tide
Downtown Spokane undergoes a transformation in the hour after 7 a.m.
But it’s nothing compared to the energy surge experienced at the Riverside Child Care Center. That’s when the kids arrive in force. And a day care first thing in the morning is a high-voltage place.
It’s not that the children were especially loud or running amok Friday. They weren’t. It’s just that one minute the brightly lighted color-splashed rooms were all but empty. Then you turned around and - wham! - the place was pulsating.
One little boy sat at a low table and worked on a bowl of Tootie Fruities cereal with one hand while operating a plastic Mickey Mouse train engine with the other.
He was lost in his thoughts until, out of the Paulsen Building’s big ground-floor windows, he spotted something exciting out on Riverside. “Garbage truck!” he cried.
A tiny little girl with a pink shirt, plaid pants and impossibly huge eyes staggered in clutching a not-quite-ripe banana like a life-raft.
Some of the good-byes with the parents dropping the kids off went smoothly. “See you Momma, like always,” said one smiling little girl.
A dad in a windbreaker did a decent job of sounding like a pirate as he hugged his son. “Aaaaaargh.”
Other partings featured tears and Velcro-like clinging. But most of the children rallied quickly enough.
“My Mom’s all gone,” a boy reported matter-of-factly as he dug into some Rice Chex. “I can’t have her.”
One father walked in with a big teddy bear under one arm and a little boy under the other.
And when a young couple arrived with their 1-year-old daughter in a carrier, a few of the other kids zoomed into action. One boy ran over to give the baby a soft welcoming pat on the tummy. Another kid started dragging over this two-tiered doughnut-shaped device that gently corrals pre-walkers while allowing them to stand.
Some of the kids fixed their attention on the center’s toys and objects of interest such as a plastic castle big enough to crawl around in.
Others practiced the art of conversation. “My Dad’s name is David,” one little boy said to another.
“I don’t have a dad,” the other kid responded. “I have a uncle.”
Nearby, a toy music box chimed.
Standing next to a closet suddenly full of tiny winter coats, a small girl explained how real life works to a stuffed monkey she cradled. “Christmas is over,” she said. “But it will come again.”
, DataTimes MEMO: Being There is a weekly feature that visits gatherings in the Inland Northwest.