His Last Hope | Ream Exclusive

03: Sometimes flowers aren't very nice.

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."