Friday, March 21


So to refresh your memory, about a year ago I was shopping around feverishly for a new daycare (remember this?). I was delighted to find a daycare center that was basically on the way to work.  The facility was clean, bright, and cheerful -- and so were the employees.  (Hooray!)

Before you jump to any conclusions, hear this: we are still very happy there.  Everything is dandy. 

I never have any issues getting Sol ready for "school."  She loves it.  Granted, she went through a little spell of early-terrible-2's last summer.  She went on a hitting rampage for a few weeks -- which no parent wants to hear about.  And for some reason she really, really, really disliked one of the teachers; Sol would actually take her own socks off and shove them in the teacher's mouth for absolutely no reason at all.  {I cannot make that up, and yes, I laughed when the director informed me of the first sock/mouth incident, and by the way, she is very much in love with that particular teacher at present.}

But seriously, she loves it now.  She's one of the veteran toddlers there, and she's their biggest helper when it comes to cleaning up the classroom at the end of the day.  She knows everyone by first name (a truly stellar talent because I mean she knows ev-er-y-one's name... even her classmates' parents).  The daycare director is super flexible and very understanding of all types of situations (*ahem* even the unique ones *ahem*).  They accommodate her vegetarian diet.  They know and appreciate the friends/family who occasionally often help me out by picking Sol up.  They send me photos throughout the day of my darling daughter, so it's *almost* like I"m there.

They're fantastic.


Let's rewind about 1 year, to Sol's first day at that center.

I walk in, carrying Sol.
One of the teachers greets us.
I say, "Good morning.  This is Sol's first day."
The teacher asked, "Sol?"
Another teacher comes along and says, "Isn't that pretty?  It's Spanish for sun."
I hand our enrollment form to the director, who says, "Yes, it's short for Solaya."
    (which she pronounced "So-lay-ah."  Vital information: I pronounce Sol's name "So-lie-ah.")
To which I reply, correcting her, "Oh, it's pronounced  So-lie-ah." 
  >> Only I didn't say that.  I didn't correct her.
I brush it off and continue down the hall with the director.
She opens the door to Sol's classroom and introduces her to the two teachers in there, saying, "Everyone, meet So-lay-ah."
I say, "Yes, this is Sol's first day."
  >> Again, I didn't correct her. 
The two teachers say, "Welcome, So-lay-ah!"
To which I reply, correcting them, "Oh, it's pronounced So-lie-ah."
  >> Only I didn't say that.  I didn't correct them this time either. 
The two teachers introduce Sol to the other kids in the Waddler classroom, "Friends, this is So-lay-ah.  Can everyone say hi to So-lay-ah?"
To which I reply, correcting them, "Oh, it's pronounced So-lie-ah."
  >> Only I didn't say that.  I didn't correct them. 

    (Do you see where this is going?)

Fast-forward to today, which marks about one year of Sol spending ~51% of her waking hours at the daycare facility.

I walk in this morning, carrying Sol.
I instruct my daughter, "Sol, say good morning!"
Sol says, "Gah mah-nan, soo!" [loosely translated: Good morning, school!]
The director greets us, "Good morning So-lay-ah!"

    (Do you see where this went?)

So... that's where we are.  On the first day, I was - I don't know - too shy/nervous/fill-in-the-blank to correct anyone.  I thought, I'll correct them tomorrow.  And then "tomorrow" happened.  Only I didn't correct them that day either.  "So-lay-ah" went viral.   And why not?  It's a pretty name; it's just not her name.  I thought about correcting them the next week, but I thought, They've been calling her So-lay-ah for a week; they're going to think I'm stupid if I correct them now.  <-- which may or may not have been the case, but that's irrelevant at this point.

Because here I find myself, a year later, taking my daughter to a daycare we adore, but where I have allowed the staff to call my daughter by the wrong name.  FOR A YEAR.  At home, I find myself calling her by her full name, saying "Solaya (so-lie-ah) Haven!" -- to which she responds, "No Sa-yi-ah. Sa-yay-ah."  And now, a year later, I absolutely cannot correct the daycare staff, because THAT DOES MAKE ME STUPID and let's just face it, I'm mortified.  I mean, imagine if you worked with someone all day, every day, for a year, and then you find out that you're not pronouncing their name correctly.  You would wonder why they failed to correct you the first day.  Or the second day.  Or the second week.  Or a month into it.


On that note, I welcome any and all advice.  And no worries, I'm surprisingly lighthearted about this.  Only it's bound to be a problem here in the next couple months.  The girl is talking now.

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