She Works Hard for the Money

So I started a new job. I'm in the "Tadpoles" class at Adventure Time. "Tadpoles" is code for eight children under the age of two. I love babies. A lot. But I can't help but feel aweful whenever I'm in that place. Some of those babies are in this daycare from 7:30am until 6:30pm. Every time they do something cute or funny I can't help but feel bad that their parents are missing it. Or at least somebody that will be a part of their lives for more than a few months. It's a good daycare. The people are nice and the place is clean. There are lesson plans and activities. But I still don't like being a part of it. But do you know what the worst part is? It's not the eight children under the age of two in a small classroom. Or the eight tiny behinds that need to be changed every ten minutes. Or having to clean up the mess after lunch and snack. Or the constant battle to keep little Jaeman out of the trash. No, no. I can handle that. The one thing that drives me up the wall are the other adults in the room that feel it necessary to take their voices up two octaves while talking. Because, obviously, we want the children to learn and mimick us and that can only be done in very high squeaky voices because everybody knows that small children can only hear sounds that are usually only picked up by dogs. It's like the people that just speak louder and slower when confronted by a person that doesn't speak English. The volume and speed isn't the problem, buddy. It's the content. And the face you make when you talk that slow...