ST. LOUIS – The child-size canvas cots come out first, then the broad wooden rocking chair, then the grandmother who fills it and who has officiated for 14 years over a bedtime routine that defies typical ones.

It’s 8 p.m., and Jacqueline Boxley’s shift at the Buttons and Bows Preschool Development Center in St. Louis is just beginning.

The silver-haired woman the kids call “Miss Jackie” has set up in her usual spot, at the threshold between two adjacent classrooms.

One room is already packed with a dozen kids under blankets. Their cots take up whatever floor space isn’t claimed by tables, chairs and toy chests. The other classroom will turn into a bedroom in about an hour, just as soon as the older children’s homework is done.

Then it’s lights out for these children, whose nights are unconventional so their parents can cash in on the odd hours of an expanding nocturnal job market. Buttons and Bows is among a small but growing subset of child care centers that are open 24 hours.

“It really shouldn’t be called day care anymore,” said Barbara D. Smith-Miller, the founder of Buttons and Bows. “Because you need to be open at all hours to serve the community.”

The concept of 24-hour child care isn’t a new one. In fact, Buttons and Bows has been at it for 16 years. Its owners say theirs was the first such center licensed for all-night care in the state.

But the demand for 24-hour child care has grown as more retail and service jobs require evening and overnight shifts. Welfare reform, meanwhile, has created new work requirements for young parents who may not find daytime work.

Those factors combine to make Buttons and Bows seem on any given day like a switching yard of intersecting work schedules.

The second-shift workers – from fast-food restaurants, groceries and factories – arrive first, dropping off kids in the after-school hours. Most of those children will stay as late as midnight, carving out an eight-hour shift of playtime, snacks, homework, dinner, bedtime stories, tooth brushing and sleep.

But at every turn through that cycle, some children go home and others are dropped off.

Even after lights are out, the traffic continues. In comes the nursing home worker and her kids. Out goes the auto factory worker. In the pharmacy assistant; out the cashier.

Throughout seemingly frenetic nights, Boxley said, most of the children seem to adapt. Even in the deep of night, many will begin to sense when it’s time to wake up and be transported home.

“I think they do a lot better than some of the adults,” Boxley said.

Aaliyah Palmer, 9, said she is getting used to the odd hours in the six months she has been coming to Buttons and Bows. Her mother works at a hospital on a shift that keeps Aaliyah at the center until midnight on school nights. With luck, she’ll sleep the last three of those hours. Even so, it can be a challenging routine for a girl who must be at a bus stop at 6 a.m. “I mostly take a nap on the bus if I need it,” she said.

The alternative for many, Smith-Miller said, is a lower-paying job or no job at all.

Whether 24-hour child care works long-term for a family has as much to do with the stamina of the center as the parent.

McClendon’s clientele embraces a broad range of occupations, from health care workers to those who staff casinos and nightclubs. Some workers adapt to the juggle of the night, others don’t, she said.

“Once they get it, they’ll keep at it for a long time,” she said. “But some can’t get the hang of it. Eventually, you’re going to get run down.”