Diary of a Daycare Teacher

the day after Halloween

Day 7: The Day After Halloween—When the Sugar Hangover Hits Hard

Dear Reader,

Well, I survived Halloween. Barely. The costumes, the candy, the sugar-fueled chaos—it was like a dream (or a nightmare) I can't quite wake up from. But now, it's the *day after* Halloween. The sugar hangover has officially hit, and let me tell you, it's like trying to get a herd of caffeinated squirrels to sit still.

I walked into the preschool room, and it felt like I had entered some kind of *post-apocalyptic candy wasteland*. The first thing I noticed was the *candy wrappers*—everywhere. They were stuck to chairs, the floor, and some were even jammed in the toy bin like little sugary landmines waiting to explode. I bent down to clean up a few, and that's when I heard it.

"Miss! I'm a *zombie* now!" It was Timmy. *Zombie Timmy* had emerged from the depths of Halloween night and was dragging himself around the room like he had no bones left in his body. I swear, he had the most convincing zombie shuffle I'd ever seen, and I half expected him to start groaning for brains.

But no. He just walked over to the snack table, grabbed a juice box, and opened it with the *deliberate slowness* of someone who has just discovered they have no energy left to do anything else.

Meanwhile, Mia, who was still wearing her "sparkly potato" costume (because why *not*?) was sitting in the corner, clutching a half-eaten lollipop like it was a precious artifact. Her eyes were wide and glazed over as she slowly licked it—*agonizingly slowly*, as if she was savoring every last sugary drop. It was as if she had entered some kind of *candy trance* and couldn't snap out of it.

"Miss, I don't want to play today," she said, sounding completely defeated. "I just want my *potato sparkle* to last forever."

"Okay, Sophie," I said, gently patting her on the head. "I get it. It's been a rough 24 hours."

Then there was little Billy, who was still *Vampire Billy*—*sunglasses and all*—but now he was refusing to leave the reading corner. I found him hiding behind the bookshelf, peeking out like a vampire who was too tired to haunt anything but the *snack table*.

"I'm hunting for *midnight snacks*, Miss," Billy said in a voice that was both serious and completely nonsensical.

"Billy, it's 9 AM," I replied, trying not to laugh.

"I'm nocturnal now," he said with a nod, clearly proud of his *vampire wisdom*. "No snacks before sundown."

*I swear*, these kids are going to be the death of me. And the sugar hasn't even fully worn off yet.

As the morning continued, things only got weirder. Jacob, who had been giving out "*power boosts*" like he was a candy dealer yesterday, now sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, *completely motionless*, staring at a toy truck. I went over to check on him, and he just blinked slowly, as if he had just been awoken from a deep sleep.

"Jacob, are you okay?"

"I'm...just...resting," he replied, sounding like a very tired superhero. "I'll be back to give out the *boosts* tomorrow."

At this point, I was half convinced that Halloween had permanently altered the preschoolers. They weren't quite themselves. They were all in some sort of *sugar limbo*—too tired to function, but too hyped up to nap.

Snack time was another ordeal. It was as if they *forgot* how to chew properly. Timmy took a bite of his cracker, stared at it for ten seconds, and then spat it out, exclaiming, "This is *too crunchy*! I need *soft* snacks!" So, of course, Mia, who was *still* in her sparkly potato state, offered him her lollipop like it was a peace offering.

"Here, Timmy. You can have my *sparkle potato* treat!" she said, holding out her half-eaten lollipop like it was a treasure.

By the time the bell rang and the parents arrived, I had a room full of half-dressed zombies, sparkly potatoes, and extremely tired vampires. But I made it through, and as I waved goodbye to each of the little sugar-crazed munchkins, I couldn't help but think:

*Tomorrow* is going to be a *very* quiet day. Right?