Crystal’s Dayhome

Today we brought out some clay. The children squished, rolled, flattened, poked, pounded and shaped the clay, experimenting with different tools and adding treasures they found outdoors.

Some ideas changed along the way. Some grew bigger and more elaborate. And some seemed to be created simply for the joy of seeing what happens if I do this?

That’s one of my favourite things about open-ended art. The finished creation is only a tiny piece of the experience. Along the way there is problem solving, creativity, sensory exploration, fine-motor work, persistence and so much conversation and imagination.

And around here, the process will always matter more than the product.

The kids made me a “birthday cake” in the sand box today. They so graciously told me they put lots of candles on it because I am getting pretty old. Nothing like them keeping me humble.

Today, Crystal’s Dayhome turns 30. ❤️

Thirty years ago, on August 1, 1996, I welcomed my very first dayhome child through my door. I had no idea then that one little step would become a journey spanning four different homes, three decades, and 79 incredible children.

As I look at the tree in this photo, I don’t just see names. I see first steps, first words, countless cuddles, tiny hands proudly holding up artwork, muddy boots by the door, endless laughter, thousands of stories, dinosaur adventures, messy paint, magical potions, tea parties, and imaginations that transformed ordinary days into unforgettable ones.

Every name is a child whose story I have had the privilege of being a small part of. Every family entrusted me with one of the greatest gifts imaginable, their child, and that is something I have never taken for granted.

People often ask how I’ve done this for 30 years.

The answer is simple.

I never wanted my dayhome to be just a place children came while their parents were at work. I wanted it to feel like an extension of home. A place where children feel safe, loved, valued, capable, and where they truly belong. A place where parents know they are supported too, because when you love a child, you can’t help but care about the people who love them.

To the 79 children whose names fill this tree: thank you for your laughter, your curiosity, your hugs, your endless questions, and for teaching me as much as I could ever hope to teach you.

To every family who has welcomed me into your lives over the past 30 years: thank you for your trust, your friendship, your encouragement, and for allowing me to be part of your journey. I will always be grateful.

To the children who currently walk through my door each morning, thank you for reminding me, every single day, why I still love what I do.

Thirty years later, my heart is just as full as it was on that very first day.

Here’s to the stories we’ve shared, the memories we’ve made, and all the adventures still to come.

Thirty years. Seventy-nine children. Countless memories. One very grateful heart.♥️

This morning, N. proudly brought a small tube of slime to show us. He had earned it as a reward for using the potty at home! Although his special slime went back home with Mom, it sparked an idea…

What if we made our own mysterious, squishy substance to explore together?

Out came the cornstarch and water, and before long, the children were completely immersed in a world of discovery.

There was scooping and pouring.
Stretching and squeezing.
Dripping and stirring.
Hands, cups, spoons, and forks all became part of the investigation.

Some children carefully watched the Oobleck slowly ooze through their fingers. Others discovered that if they squeezed it tightly, it felt almost solid, but the moment they relaxed their grip, it flowed like a liquid again.

There were no instructions on how to play. No right or wrong way to explore.

Instead, there was curiosity.
Experimentation.
Problem-solving.
Conversation.
Laughter.
And a whole lot of joyful mess!

As educators, we often talk about following children’s interests. Today was a beautiful example of how some of the richest learning experiences begin with something as simple as a child saying, “Look what I brought to show you.”

Sometimes all it takes is noticing that spark of curiosity and wondering, “Where could this lead?”

Today, something beautiful happened around the tire swing.

J., G., and N. were on the tire swing. I was holding little J. to keep him from getting bumped by the swing. J. noticed that little J. wanted to help push. Without being asked, he climbed off the swing and offered his place so little J. could join in.

What might seem like a small act was actually a wonderful example of kindness, empathy, and inclusion.

Children are naturally capable of caring for one another when they are given the time and space to build meaningful relationships. In that moment, J. wasn’t thinking about losing his turn. He was thinking about making room for someone else.

Little J. eagerly stepped in, proud to help push his friends. Together, the children discovered that joy grows when everyone has a chance to participate.

Belonging isn’t about everyone doing the same thing. It’s about making space for one another.

This seemed liked the perfect puzzle for us to do together on this rainy, rainy day.

G. has found a ladybug or two in my yard every day this week. All of the children get excited to see the ladybugs he finds. They often want turns holding the ladybugs, but sometimes they fly off before getting the chance. This morning I set out a little ladybug sensory bin for when the children arrive.

Late Friday afternoon we got a dump of logs from Chip Drop. Over the weekend Archie lined the stumps up along the fence and the logs along the other fence. This morning the kids were so excited to see all of the stumps and they were the first thing the kids ran to to climb on.