The first day was so awful.
I wanted to curl up and cry in the corner, like one of the kids. Scratch that, two of the kids. Maybe three.
I must admit, I pick favorites.
The three Japanese, non-English speaking kids.
MK is the (semi) responsible older sister – she’s 8. She’s intelligent – she picked up quite a lot of English in a week. I remember she’s a kid when she spent an entire hour bringing me dead plant leaves to chop in half. That seriously entertained her.
YK is the middle child who reminds me of YM (in his looks), but who’s evolved into quite the mischievous smart-aleck. When he was messing with his recorder inappropriately, stealing quick glances at me out of the corner of his eye, gaging my expression, pushing my patience. I would stand up threateningly, and he would quickly put it in its case and look up at me, smiling…and I would relent. My goodness. He also ordered a good 20 markers in a perfect rainbow. I took him to the bathroom with another kid, and I heard him telling the other to ‘wash your HANDSSSS’.
MS is the adorable young one – three years old, maybe? We thought he couldn’t write, but he fooled us all. His expression. All the time. His eyes. Are. Priceless. He always followed his siblings, and he had this troublemaker side, as well. He taunted his brother with his popcorn – doing the ‘you want it? PSYCHE.” I couldn’t believe it. This same angel frequently crawls around on the floor to pick up markers and whatnot, then orders them helps us clean up while the other kids play. When he fought with his siblings and I took him to sit on a different mat to separate them, he went ape-crazy and ran back to his normal mat, and proceeded to behave beautifully, ignoring all his sibling’s harassment. OH MYGOODNESS SO CUTE. He always wants ‘wah-duh’ and to go to the bathroom (which he shows by coming up to me, saying ‘baf-oom’, and looking at me with those anguished eyes. Ah, to be a kid again.