Housewardenās dropping their child off at daycare for the first time
[Inspired by a tumblr creator: strawberry-cowmilk]
Just so you know: This turned out way fluffier than I planned. Sorry. (ā¦Not really.)
He triple-checked the daycare's rulebook. Twice. He even had you proofread the "Daily Care Instructions" he typed up, which included a section on acceptable juice-to-water ratios. When you got there, he knelt down and straightened your daughter's little bow for the tenth time. "Remember the rules," he started, his voice a little tight. "No running inside, share the toys, and if another child acts out, you are to inform the caregiver immediately. Do not attempt to handle it yourself." The little girl just nodded, clutching his sleeve. He cleared his throat, looking suddenly flustered. "And... and if you need me... they have my number. They know to call." He gave her a quick, stiff hug before practically marching out, not looking back. You found him ten minutes later, still sitting in the car, staring at the daycare door.
This is a waste of time," he grumbled, the kid riding on his shoulders and pulling happily at his hair. "They're just gonna stick her in a room with a bunch of other snot-nosed cubs." He tried to leave her at the door with a pat on the head, but she latched onto his leg. With a long-suffering sigh, he hauled her up and carried her inside, finding her a corner away from the noisy group. "Alright, listen. You don't take any crap from anyone, got it? If some brat tries to take your toy, you growl at 'em." The caregiver gave him a horrified look. Leona just smirked, set his daughter down, and left. He spent the whole morning napping on the couch, but you noticed he never actually fell asleep, his ears twitching at every little noise from outside.
He had already scheduled a meeting with the daycare owner to discuss their "operational efficiency" and "liability waivers." He presented your daughter with a custom-made, waterproof name tag. "Now, my little pearl," he said smoothly, "this is a wonderful networking opportunity. Be friendly, be helpful. If you see a child struggling with a puzzle, assist them. It fosters good rapport." He was all smiles until it was time to let go of her hand. His smile became a little wobbly. He quickly knelt down. "On second thought, if anyone is mean to you, you write down their name and we'll... discuss a mutually beneficial arrangement later." He left looking composed, but you got three texts from him in the first hour asking if you thought she was making enough friends.
He showed up with way too much stuff. A giant bag of snacks to share, three extra changes of clothes "just in case!", and a tiny, jeweled music box to help her nap. "You're going to have so much fun!" he cheered, swinging her around before setting her down. "Look at all the new friends! Remember to share the cupcakes! And the juice boxes! And the toys!" He was so busy enthusiastically pointing out all the fun activities that he didn't notice she was starting to look overwhelmed. When the caregiver gently pried her from his side, Kalim waved, his smile bright as the sun. The second the door closed, his face fell. "Do you think she'll be okay?" he asked you, voice small. "What if she trips? What if she's shy? What if they run out of cupcakes?!
He had personally vetted the daycare's hygiene standards and sent them a list of approved, non-toxic art supplies. He knelt gracefully, adjusting the perfect little outfit he'd picked out. "Now, remember your posture. And do not, under any circumstances, eat the paste. It is full of preservatives and artificial colors." He gave her a kiss on the forehead, his movements poised and perfect. As he walked away, he didn't look back once, his head held high. The moment you two were out of sight, he pulled out his phone, pulling up the daycare's live-feed camera app. "I'm just ensuring the environment is as aesthetically nurturing as they promised," he said, not taking his eyes off the screen where his daughter was cautiously approaching a dollhouse.
He tried to send a drone. When you vetoed that, he showed up in a hoodie, sunglasses, and a baseball cap, muttering about "overstimulating NPC environments." He crouched down behind you, using you as a shield. "Okay, gremlin. Protocol: Social Interaction. Just... stick to the periphery. Maybe find a book corner. The sandbox is a confirmed bio-hazard zone, avoid at all costs." His daughter, clutching a little Ortho plushie, just stared. When she was led away, Idia let out a shaky breath. "This is a disaster. She's going to be permanently socially debuffed." He spent the entire time at home pacing, refreshing the parent portal, and firing off a string of anxious, all-caps texts about the "agro-level of the other toddler players.
He was confused by the entire concept. "Why must she seek companionship here, when she has the forests of Briar Valley?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. You explained it was about learning to play with other children. He fell silent. When you dropped your daughter off, she was the only one who didn't immediately run to the toys. She just stood there, looking small. Malleus's heart cracked. But then, a little boy with a messy paint smock came over and offered her a lump of blue play-dough. Her face lit up. Malleus watched, barely breathing, as his baby girl made her first real friend. "I see," he said softly, a rare, warm smile touching his lips. "This is an acceptable quest.
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