Hallelujah.

Today I went to pick up Owen and, as usual, they had him sitting in the middle of the floor with a pacifier, mindlessly staring around the room. The "sitter" in the room, who looked like she was maybe a sophomore in high school, was walking around carrying a crying baby. She did not acknowledge me. I didn't recognize her, so I didn't really care and went across the room to sign Owen out for the day. I noticed that they had written in big letters that Owen is out of diapers. Usually they let me know when he is low and I'll bring some in the next day. No biggie. I reached down to pick him up and instantly became aware that he had a dirty diaper. This irks me when he has a dirty diaper when I pick him up, because I think they purposely hold off changing him. So I told the girl his situation, because I wasn't about to make him sit through the car ride home like this. She gave me a snotty look and said, "Well, he doesn't have any diapers left." I kind of wanted to hit her, but restrained myself and asked if anyone else had his size diaper that I could use. She and another girl scrambled around and eventually found one. You would think that since he made the dirty diaper while in their care, they would be nice enough to change it. But nooooo, I changed the diaper myself and might have forcefully shut the door on the way out without wishing them a lovely evening. I have yet to find out why this facility has such a great reputation in the community.

Back to the sitter-searching, we had our last interview this evening. I (re)learned a lesson: you can't judge a person and their child care facilities by the way they sound on the phone. When I spoke to this lady last week, I pictured in my head a middle-aged, schoolteacher-like person. SHE IS A HIPPIE. She has a hippie husband and scary children and an even scarier house full of scary collector Barbie dolls. And knick-knacks! Does it get scarier than that?! She and her husband were both really nice, but the only "playroom" was this living room chalked full of the aforementioned furnishings. There were about ten square feet of space to move around in. Needless to say, that one's a "no."

So, after the husband and I discussed it, I called Cindy back, even though she's on vacation this week, and told her we'd like her to watch Owen if she's still available. Hopefully she is, or I will cry. No one wants that.

*Sigh of relief* I'm glad this is over with.