Who will know my child?
A qualified early-childhood teacher leads every room, and we roster the same educators to the same children every day. No agency staff, ever — average educator tenure here is 6.2 years.
Every child at Little Sparrows has a name tag on a cubby, an educator who knows what she noticed today, and a handwritten postcard to prove it. Reggio-inspired, chef-fed, and honest about our fees.

A qualified early-childhood teacher leads every room, and we roster the same educators to the same children every day. No agency staff, ever — average educator tenure here is 6.2 years.
Open 7:30 to 6:00, 51 weeks a year, with everything included — five chef-cooked meals a day, nappies, sunscreen, sun hats and excursions. One fee, no surprise extras in week three.
Card-access entry, digital sign-in and sign-out, secure yards, and a postcard in your bag each evening telling you exactly what the day held. You never have to wonder.
Children move up when they are ready, not when the calendar says so. Each room keeps its own rhythm, its own educators and its own postcard stack.
Slow mornings, one educator to three babies, and naps on your schedule, not ours. Milk feeds logged, first steps photographed, first words written down.
Walkers and climbers with strong opinions. Low shelves they can reach, a garden they visit twice a day, and educators who narrate everything.
The year of why. Long projects that follow the children's questions — snails, puddles, the moon — with an atelier table that never quite gets cleared.
School readiness without worksheets: negotiation at the mud kitchen, early writing on the sign-in desk, and a vegetable bed they run themselves.
Parents always ask what actually happens between the hug at drop-off and the hug at pick-up. Here is the honest answer, hour tags and all.
You pack nothing but the child and a change of clothes. Everything else — meals, nappies, sunscreen, hats, excursions, linen — is already in the cubby and already in the fee.

Every child goes home with a few handwritten lines about their day — what they built, said, tried, refused. Parents keep them. Some frame them. These are theirs, shared with permission.
On her fourth morning, Juno hung her bag on her own tag and forgot to say goodbye to me. I cried in the car — the good kind.
The postcard about Felix and the snail crossing the path is on our fridge. They noticed what he noticed. That is the whole thing.
I came back from leave with a knot in my chest. The photo of Ada asleep on Margaret's shoulder at 10am untied it.
94%
of families in our 2026 survey said we exceeded their expectations
The other 6% mostly wanted us open on Sundays.

At 8am the garden is already loud: gumboots by the door, watering cans out, someone important supervising the snail crossing. Field House is our garden campus — vegetable beds, a mud kitchen and room to run.
14 Alder Lane · 7:30–6:00, Mon–Fri
Harbour House is quieter: a big sunlit reading room, cubbies at kid height, a rooftop yard with a string of paper flags. The babies' windows catch the morning light, which is exactly where we put the rugs.
3 Pier Street · 7:30–6:00, Mon–FriThirty unhurried minutes at either campus. Meet the educators, see the rooms mid-mess, and leave with the fee sheet in your hand. Bring the small person — the tour is really for them.