Any parent at the Main coffee shop will whisper—often loud declarations—about this private preschool Walnut Creek, the one with never-ending waitlists and stellar Facebook reviews. Real buzz is what it is. Everybody tells a tale. Mom-of- two Sarah says her quiet daughter suddenly performs poetry at the dinner table. Jake,? Wanting to create a butterfly garden, his son questions him about beehive dynamics. Is this some Hogwarts for young children or have parents gone crazy with themed snack days and appealing newsletters?

First thing you will notice when entering the preschool: color bursts on the walls, true sharing among the children, and a waft of fingerpaint mixed with Goldfish crackers. Every child’s favorite dinosaur and most illogical fear—the vacuum, clearly—are memories shared by teachers. One of the teachers, Ms. Lena, could train a chipmunk to remain still with just a glance. Disaster? indeed. Still, somehow it works.

The play-based program runs puppet shows, sandpit discussions, and gravity talks during mornings. Actually, not at all A four-year-old tried to outsmart me on the cause of apple falls. “Because Gravity is bossy,” she said. The children’s questions guide the ship far more than some generic lesson plan; the setting hums with curiosity.

Safety improvements come before fresh TikHub patterns. The playground fence of the daycare may keep Jurassic Park dinosaurs out, and drop-off seems better than some restaurants’ curb-side pickup. Allergies are what The staff can better remember your child’s eating habits than those of your own grandmother. Parents are constantly in contact with one other, occasionally to the extent of wondering whether you are co-parenting with the director.

Still, let’s address the elephant in the room: tuition. it stings. When they see the monthly charge, some people blink three times. Others argue, though, that the happiness of their child in creating edible volcanoes cannot be measured in dollars. Priority, right?

Certain substitutes close by offer weekly math assignments and alphabet drills. But here, there are play regulations. Unless two-year-old Olivia gets involved, then all bets are off; the children learn how to negotiate without calling for a United Nations mediator.

Does this preschool then merit parent loyalty? Perhaps it’s the teachers’ amazing recall of every child’s narrative. Perhaps the wacky art undertakings are the reason. Alternatively, maybe just maybe, tired parents sip their coffee knowing their baby is thriving and can learn and laugh simultaneously. You choose if the hoopla is justified; just avoid occupying my lottery seat next year.