COLUMN | From Katie Wilson to South Seattle, Child Care Costs Expose a Citywide Crisis

Shortly after being elected mayor of Seattle last fall, Katie Wilson posted a tongue-in-cheek tweet responding to scrutiny she had faced during the campaign over reports that her parents had helped cover her child care costs.

"After much deliberation and a grueling interview process, I'm pleased to announce that I've accepted a new job and will not need any financial support from my parents to cover the high costs of childcare going forward," Wilson wrote.

The attack line came not only from her opponent and local right-wing voices but also from national outlets. The New York Post characterized the situation as Wilson living off of her parents' money.

"In the context of the campaign, around the time this became an issue, there was a Seattle Times article about how child care in Seattle is among the most expensive in the country," Wilson said. "So it didn't seem like a big deal to me to share that my parents were contributing a little bit to our child care costs."

The October 2025 report in The Seattle Times found that the median annual cost of center-based child care in King County is roughly $30,000 for an infant and $26,000 for a toddler. Since 2020, monthly median child care costs for all age groups except school-age children have continued to rise, leaving many families scrambling.

Last month, the Daily Mail referred to Wilson as Seattle's "soon-to-be-mayor" who had "drawn scrutiny for openly taking money from her parents to fund her life."

Wilson says the reaction felt disconnected from the reality faced by many families.

"I was talking on the campaign about how so many young families are leaving the city because they can't afford the cost of living here," she said. "I have friends whose parents watch their kid three days a week. There's lots of in-kind help and financial help that family and friends provide, if they can afford it. It's not an unusual situation by any means. So, yeah, I was surprised that it became an issue."

What the backlash revealed, Wilson argues, is a broader unwillingness to take the child care crisis seriously, particularly how unevenly its burden falls.

"Black and Brown communities and low-income folks are obviously more impacted by the cost-of-living crisis in our city," Wilson said. "South Seattle is definitely a center for that. We're going to need to work really closely with Black and Brown communities in South Seattle to make sure we're focusing on their needs and developing solutions in collaboration with community."

The stakes of the child care crisis are vividly illustrated at Tiny Tots Development Center, a longtime child care provider serving South Seattle families.

Tiny Tots was founded in 1969 by Helen Hicks. Her daughter, Angelia Hicks-Maxie, now runs the organization. At the time of the organization's founding, Hicks worked at the University of Washington and struggled to find reliable child care for her children.

"People would say they were going to take care of my brother and me," Hicks-Maxie recalled. "Then in the morning she'd go to take us and they'd say, 'I'm sick today,' or 'I'm going out of town.' It was a lot of back and forth."

What began as a portable classroom behind Van Asselt Elementary has since grown into four sites serving South Seattle communities. Despite its longevity, Tiny Tots still operates within the same financial constraints facing providers across the city. Monthly tuition is comparable to Seattle's median child care costs — already among the highest in the nation.

"Child care is complicated," Hicks-Maxie said. "If the state doesn't look at it holistically, we're never going to fix it. Everybody's business model is different. You can't just throw some money at one group and say, 'Here you go,' and expect it to work."

Hicks-Maxie contrasted Washington's approach with what she observed on a study tour in Finland, where child care is treated as a public good rather than a market commodity. In Finland, low-income families pay nothing, fees are capped for others, pre-primary education is free, and every family has a legal right to municipal child care regardless of employment status.

A Finnish child care worker she spoke with was shocked to learn that U.S. child care subsidies are often tied to work or school participation.

"She asked me, 'You mean you punish the children for adult behavior?'" Hicks-Maxie recalled. "I remember feeling self-conscious about that."

At Tiny Tots, roughly 98% of children are enrolled through subsidized programs, such as the Early Childhood Education and Assistance Program (ECAP) or the Seattle Preschool Program (SPP). Even then, families are often responsible for co-payments and for covering hours beyond the limited subsidy window.

"Families will tell me when the cost becomes too much," Hicks-Maxie said. "They come back and ask, 'Can you help me with my co-payment? I don't have the $300 difference.'"

When Hicks-Maxie offers discounts, the money comes directly out of the program's operating budget.

"For every $100 I give a family a deal on, that's $100 not going toward food, rent, utilities, or staff salaries," she said. "It's a delicate balance. You want to help, but you also want to keep the program fully funded."

Wilson emphasizes that the child care crisis isn't just about affordability for families — it's also about the workers caring for children.

"Child care can be a low-wage job despite the fact that it's difficult, skilled work," she said. "We need qualified, talented people caring for our kids, and we're not paying them comparably. That's a big part of this crisis."

At Tiny Tots, most of the budget goes to staff, Hicks-Maxie said. And even that often isn't enough.

"You want to know that when you leave your child, they're going to thrive," she said. "That means staff who are well-paid, well-educated, and stable. They shouldn't be on food banks themselves or barely scraping by, then expected to show up cheerful and present for children every day. That's not a good mix."

Because so much funding goes to staffing, there's little left for facility upgrades, making programs like SPP critical. Through SPP, Tiny Tots has been able to invest in quality improvements that would otherwise be out of reach.

For Hicks-Maxie, the stakes of underinvestment extend far beyond individual families.

"When we invest in children early, we're investing in the future," she said. "The data is there. When children feel valued and supported, they thrive."

Despite the financial pressures, Hicks-Maxie remains committed to South Seattle.

"If I picked up Tiny Tots and moved it to Bellevue, I could make three times the money," she said. "But my mother started here 55 years ago. She believed all children deserve love and care. That's in my DNA."

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Gennette Cordova is a writer, organizer, and social impact manager.