Too rich for my blood

Since our move is only two months away, I toured a few area daycares this morning. Now I'm not gonna name names, but I am gonna tell a story on one of them.

I knew I was in trouble when the lady had me sit in an overstuffed (real) leather chair by the aquarium while I waited for the director who would give the tour. I really knew I was in trouble when I had to stifle laughter several times just while reading the little new parent information packet. I tried counting the instances of "empowered" but lost track. In the section about communicating with your child, it actually said if your child is absorbed in an activity, you shouldn't interrupt her; rather, you should wait for her to finish before you speak. Um, beg pardon?
Then the tour commenced. The rooms were much quieter, more somber, and frankly more... beige than the rooms at the other places I toured. I'm sure this was to promote an environment of thoughtful learning or some such nonsense. Can't you just picture my child screaming, tearing through those hallowed halls? I can, and I don't think they'd find it as funny as I do.
My visit fell at lunchtime, so she showed me the toddlers sitting down to eat. With classical music playing in the background. All sitting quietly at the table, which was covered with an actual tablecloth. With a (glass) vase with flowers in the middle. All the kids had their home lunches (all hot meals, of course). I didn't even recognize most of the food (too snooty and/or ethnic); only one kid had chicken nuggets on his place (I love chicken nuggets). And the best part...I'm not kidding you... A teacher was pouring a little girl's milk into (no seriously, I'm not joking) a miniature glass goblet. For real. 
So my kid is a daycare baby, and I think she might be a little too... scrappy for the likes of these folk. There was apparently an episode the other day where another little girl snatched her blanket just as lunch was ending, right before nap. Elle took her down in a furor of tears and spaghetti sauce and emerged the proud victor and rightful owner of her blankie. I don't know if that sort of behavior would get her past the screening assessment required before enrollment. Whatevs. We'll just take my baby and her savoie faire to some place that will appreciate her for it.