That's funny because there was a daycare across the alley from my house when I was young (pre-school), and I always wanted to go there. I'd be out in the backyard by myself, playing on my one swing or in my playhouse . . . and I'd see them over there playing with friends on their great playground equipment . . . and I wanted to go!
Later, when I started school, I told myself that if I'd gone to daycare I wouldn't have been so shy. That I wouldn't learned to talk to people. True or false? I dunno, but it's what I told myself in 1st and 2nd grade.
I know that my own daughters enjoyed day care. When I'd go pick them up, they always ran to me and were glad that I was there, but they often wanted me to stay 10-15 minutes with them on the playground (being a teacher, I always seemed to pick-up 3:00 or 3:30, when they were outside), and they'd always insist on taking me back to the room to show me the finger painting they'd made that day. And they always had stories about playing with so-and-so or such-and-such toys. Oh, occasionally there'd be a bad story: Like the day my youngest threw sand into a little girl's eyes (on purpose) and she was punished by being made to sit on the green bench. Or the day that I went to pick her up, and she was sopping wet and crying -- she'd stuck her head through the bars of a piece of playground equipment, and they'd been forced to soap her down to get her head to slide back through. But most days they were full of happy chatter when I picked them up.
If they'd not been thriving, I would've changed courses.