In the nursery

This big boy started daycare (or nursery, as it's known here) today. For now, he is going one day a week. As he gets used to it, we will ramp it up, so that by the fall, when Mum starts school, he will be going close to full-time. I stayed home from work for his first day; upon dropping him off, Mum and I had a relaxing child-free day visiting cafes on Holloway Road. Bob was sad when we said goodbye to him at daycare, crying, though the minders ensured us that once we left he was fine and had fun playing with the other kids.

The toddler room is a strange place. It's a bit small and just full of kids moving in all different directions and bouncing off each other and redirecting like a game of pong played in a small room with twenty balls, each kid a ball. When an adult enters the room, the swarm of children flows toward the door to gather around. God bless these nice ladies who every day come and take care of these toddlers, all while seeming to enjoy it.

Part of me wants to be a Tiger dad and enroll Bob in the highest rated daycare in London where they are already teaching children to read before the age of two. But the other part of me, the part that has won, enrolled him in the daycare closest to our apartment, with a philosophy that the investment of time and expense for such a high-rated daycare may or may not be worth it. Must Bob be enrolled in only elite institutions in order to succeed in education? I am betting no, unless that elite institution also happens to be the one closest to our home.

Heading out the front door to his first day at the nursery.

Excitement as a plane in the sky is spotted in front of our building as we head to Bob's first day at nursery.

In front of the daycare itself. The building is very old. It looks like an old factory or warehouse, but there is also an old iron name plate that says St. Mary's. Maybe it was housing for one of the local churches?