If I was given the opportunity of never again having to suffer through an unbearable task it would be washing dishes.

Hands down.

Especially after being bestowed the responsibility of washing, sanitizing, drying and putting away approximately two hundred cups, plates and utensils five days a week. It was a tedious task and if I never again had to scrounge through a soapy tub of water it would be too soon.

As the mountains of drool covered cups and mush infested bins began to slowly disappear my heart sang a happy tune. It was a melody that reminded me that I could soon escape from the suffocating four walls of the daycare kitchen and return to the real world. Being almost through allowed me to fight the urge to send my foot flying into the industrial sanitization machine. The roar it created sounding like it was doing more harm than good to the load inside anyways.

I was on my second last load of dishes — just drying up the last of the clean cups while I waited for the sanitizer to work its unnoticeable magic. Stretching to reach the top cupboard caused my sweatshirt to ride up and a shiver to rack my body. Tugging it back down I scrambled onto the counter top.

Why the most vertically challenged employee was chosen for this job, I will never know.

With my knees planted on the grey, sturdy surface I was able to slide the cups into their respectable spots. Being so indulged in not falling off the counter I had no realization someone had entered the kitchen until a scraping met my ears.

Melanie, a middle aged coworker of mine, stood there sending me a slight wave. Her expression resembled that of a young girl who just got caught doing something she wasn't meant to. I was confused until I took notice of the white snack tray that materialized on the once clear countertop.

I held back a sigh at the sight of the leaning tower of dirty cups. I didn't mind this happening the odd time. The classrooms sometimes became hectic and delays in schedule were only to be expected. To my distaste, however, this was becoming the norm.

"Sorry!" Melanie quipped at the sight of my dropped expression. "Tammy just showed up to my room honestly, thirty seconds ago. She was meant to cover Jess when she left for bus duty but you know how punctual Tammy is."

Oh, do I ever...

I offered a polite smile telling her not to worry even though I wanted to stomp my foot in frustration.

"I could finish them up for you if you want? I feel bad. You'd be done by now if it weren't for my room's snack dishes."

Shaking my head at her I responded, "No, really it's okay. It shouldn't take me that much longer — isn't your shift over in ten minutes?"

Melanie swung her head to peek at the clock above the green doorframe making her short ponytail flick along with the movement.

"Are you sure?" Melanie pressed.

"Completely. Don't worry about it."

The reassuring smile I wore was enough to convince her and she backed herself out of the kitchen threshold, thanking me a hundred and ten times before disappearing down the hallway. "I owe you!"

"Yes. Yes you do..."I muttered under my breath glaring at the disaster in my wake. Looking over the catastrophe I scowled. It looked as if through the Cookie Monster blew chunks onto a rainbow. With an unhappy groan I took the entire tub of too-bright dishes and dumped the contents into the sudsy water.

That's when I was met with a face full of bubbles. The murky liquid slowly dripped down my face, drenching my top and making me look like I'd found the one thawed lake in all of Ontario and jumped in.

I took that opportunity to do what I felt like doing the second I entered that hell hole of cleanliness — I kicked the hunk of metal we called the sanitizer.

I hate washing dishes.

After finishing up the bucket Melanie had brought me I was done with my daily torture. Not taking a second glance back into the kitchen I booked it down the hall — only halting for the line of Toddlers scrambling their way to the playground.

Carlie led the waddling group, who were clad in full-body snowsuits, outside. They waved and shouted my name in greeting as they passed. Tammy's tall frame followed behind the bunch and it took every last bit of resistance not to trip the reason to why I was always stuck in prison longer than need be.

It was nearing the end of the day and the hallways were pretty crammed. There were hordes of children scrambling to get ready, coming in and out of the playground, and parents who were trickling in to retrieve their kids. Retellings of how the day was spent buzzed throughout the building, art and crafts being shown off with pride.

For the most part it was the happiest time of the day.

Except for when you had to watch the reunion between children and those who's parents never appeared to mentally leave work. Those parents were never hard to spot. They were the last to show, typing an email or fretting over some important conference meeting. The ones who brushed off their children's recollections like they were the least important thing in the world. The ones I felt like hitting with a sign that said 'PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR KID'.

It wasn't until I started working at Fingers and Toes Childcare that my eyes opened to things I never considered; things I never wanted to consider.

It took me a couple minutes longer than normal to break through the chaos. With winter still in full swing, boots, stray mittens, and hazardous puddles of water plagued the corridors. Thankfully, I was able to slip into the preschool room unharmed.

I hadn't had a chance to shut the half-door before a chorus of "Ms. Cali!" erupted within the class. Like a herd of baby elephants running toward water the children surrounded me in excitement. Tiny hands latched onto me within seconds.

"Ms. Cali come! I have to show you something!"

"Ms. Cali can you come play with me?"

"No! Come play with us!"

"Look Ms. Cali, look at what we made!"

Trying to be as fair as possible I returned every hug, answered every question and listened to every story as I was being dragged to-and-fro. Dawn noticed my struggle as the children continued to tug me in every direction and put down her attendance binder.

"Okay friends!" Dawn sang in her hippie-like tone. The preschoolers obediently turned to the soothing high-pitched sound. "Ms. Cali's here. You know what that means!"

"Table activities!" The kids jumped up and down, cheering as if though she told them they won a year's supply of free ice cream.

If that were the case I'd be screaming too.

"Why don't you guys clean up the classroom while Ms. Cali and I set out some activities? Sound good?"

With one last hooray that could put Buddy the Elf's cheering for Santa to shame the class dispersed into every direction to find stray toys.

"Thanks for the save." I said to Dawn, giving her a whisper of a smile.

"No problem. They just got a little overexcited. They haven't seen you in a few days."

"Yeah, I had to cover for Pam in the infant room."

"Poor girl, morning sickness is hitting her hard, eh?" Dawn passed me the play-dough container to set out.

"Yeah, I feel bad for her."

"So do I. Both of my sons were pretty easy on me." She lugged the sizeable Lego container off the shelf and over to one of the little green tables. "Veronica and I actually brought in some flowers for her today. It was Livvy's idea, she's such a sweetheart."

"Aww," I cooed, the little redhead coming to mind, "that's really sweet."

"I know." Dawn seemed to stop for a moment in thought before going to retrieve more toys to put out. "You know what's really odd though?" My coworker started after a stretched silence between us.

"What?" I was separating the purple play-dough into four equal portions. It was made the day prior and I was relishing in the soft, gooey feel.

Dawn's eyes flickered over to one of the many carpeted stations in the classroom. Looking in the direction of her attention I understood which topic this conversation was going to entail.

The petite, blonde three year old silently helped her classmates clean. She walked around the cluttered carpet occasionally bending, her hands reaching out for discarded Barbies. Her long locks dangled in front of her cerulean blue eyes as she bent, but she didn't dare unclench the worn cloth bear from under her arm.

"Sadie was terrified."

"Of the baby room?"

Dawn circled one of the plastic tables to close some distance. "No," she shook her head in disbelief causing her bangs to sway from their always perfect position, "of the flowers."

"That's odd."

"My thoughts exactly. I thought it'd be cute to march each one of the kids in there holding their own flower but Sadie down right refused. She wanted nothing to do with them." Dawn fiddled with one of the blocks laid out on the table, "I brought it to Mindy's attention once we came back. Her theory is that she had a run in with a bee or something — but I'm not so sure."

"So you don't think Mindy's bee theory could be right?"

"It could be. I just... I have this sinking feeling it's home related." Everything we were doing moments ago came to a full stop, both of us observing the preschooler. "We hardly see mom — which I suppose is understandable considering she's a nurse and having on-call work can be a little unpredictable. But not a word has been mentioned about her father.

Dawn lowered her voice to a whisper when a mother walked by, a hungry toddler in her arms. "It's their landlady who shows up every night. From seven to seven the poor thing's here and then she doesn't even go home... I just feel bad you know?"

That was depressing to think about. On a daily basis I witnessed children not being given adequate care or attention — parents handing their offspring off to us every second they could. It was heartbreaking. We had a choice to call for help, to make a decision that would change lives, but who was to say that calling for help wouldn't do more harm than good?

"I should get going." Dawn started, breaking me from my thoughts. "Anthony and Daniel have soccer tonight so I need to get my behind in motion if I want dinner to be ready on time. Veronica should be back soon, she's just covering in Toddler."

Dawn left not too long after I got all the children seated at an activity. Once the kids were settled I did the usual and found myself a spot at a table to occupy myself until Ally came with the rest of the Preschoolers and Kindergarteners.

Today it was colouring. And all because my curiosity got the best of me.

"Hi Sadie," I greeted, sliding up a too-small chair next to her. Getting out of it later would be a nightmare.

"Hi," her pea sized teeth displayed for a second before she returned her concentration back to her picture.

"What'cha drawing?"

"A picture for Mommy."

"And what are you drawing for her?" I asked while leaning over to peek down at her scribbling hand.

Sadie coloured in the field she drew. "A good home."

The skin between my brows wrinkled. "A good home? What's wrong with the home you're in now?"

Her shoulders rose up next to her ears before falling.

While my eyes racked over her drawing another question came to mind.

"Hey, Sadie?"

"Yes?" She wiggled her fingers towards the middle of the table, determined to reach for the crayon bin that sat just out of her reach.

I brought the bin closer and away from the twins who had a Mount Everest of crayons forming in front of them.

"Do you like flowers?"

"Sometimes."

Reaching for a looseleaf and crayon I decided to doodle as well. "Mrs. Dawn told me that you didn't like the flowers that her and Ms. Veronica brought in today. Didn't you think they were pretty?"

"No."

"Do they scare you?"

Her head bobbed in a short nod.

"Why?" I pushed the bin back closer to Abby and Riley who were no longer satisfied with their selection.

I frowned when she shrugged again, not knowing what to ask next. A moment later her soft voice met my ears. "Sometimes flowers aren't very nice."

"Why aren't they nice?"

"'Cause sometimes bad things happen when you get flowers."

It was at that moment that I realized I'd never been so perplexed by a child. Not even the complex things Harper said confused me in such a way. Sadie seemed knowledgable beyond her years — like she'd already seen so much in her short time of being on this planet.

And that thought scared me.

I was about to ask her another question, to clear up the riddle about flowers when, I took notice of her drawing again. A very meadow-y looking field took up a good third of the page. A red house stood off to the left. The three figures holding hands in the centre smiled, all looking content on the sunny day.

My eyes took in the utopia-like depiction. You really could tell so much about someone based off what they draw. Art wandered out from the subconscious corners and crevices. It represented our inner most selves, releasing thoughts we never even realized we considered.

I took in the smooth lines and neat colouring. Until I noticed a figure drawn on the far right.

As Sadie shuffled through the crayons with a specific colour in mind I inspected the figure further. It was genderless; no dress, no hair, no face. It was your standard representation of a stick figure, with a black 'X' scribed across.

The doodle could have very well been a mistake, a momentary lapse in judgement — but I was compelled to ask about the purple etching.

"Sadie, who's this?" I gestured to the spot, reaching over her small hand.

Her pink lips parted about ready to respond, when the door whipped open to allow entrance to the remaining children left in the centre.

"We're here!" Ally announced throwing her hands up in exaggerated cheer. "Cali, can you go check if the kitchen's all done? Apparently the School Agers were late finishing snack and I don't think Tammy got the chance to clean them."

Nostrils flaring I dropped the crayon from my fingers. "Of course she didn't..."