I’m slowly acclimating to the new job. The commute (or complete lack thereof) is awesome, as is being able to wear my own clothes. And a big thanks to Kmart for providing extremely cheap yet acceptably cute clothing that I don’t mind getting all mucked up with paint and germs and boogers and CHILDREN.
We recently had a few new two-year-olds added to our little preschool village. One of the new ones is a little girl who has decided I am the only person, teacher or child alike, who is not scary and who she finds acceptable to be around. She’s just the cutest little thing, she’s Cambodian with big ‘ole eyes and this little raspy voice. And sometimes she wears a knit cap that is comprised of two red Pippy Longstockings braids that stick out and it’s the funniest and most adorable thing to see her wearing it. She’s always following me around like a little duckling. If it’s time to tidy up, she’s there behind me clutching her teddy bear and looking perfectly content to trail along while I’m doing stuff. I’ll let her know when I’m heading off to the bathroom so she doesn’t freak out and about 90% of the time she’s leaning against the wall waiting for me when I come out. Every once in a while I’ll forget to wait for her as I’m doing stuff and I’ll turn a corner or go into a different room and then I’ll turn to look for her but she’s gone. That’s when I starting hoping that she’s finally found something to do besides follow me around or is off playing with another child (not because I don’t like having her around but because I want her to get comfortable with other people) but then she’ll come hurtling around the corner or into the room with a disgruntled look on her face. Sometimes she looks scared but usually she looks at me with this pissed off look that says “How DARE you abandon me.”
I kinda love this little girl. She’s got moxie.
Yesterday I only worked in the afternoon. I was one of the outside teachers but it was raining and raining and raining so the kids couldn’t play out on the playground. Most of the 43 children were inside playing, I never had more than a handful of kids out on the covered deck with me. The afternoon was spent reading books to my little duckling and some of the other two-years-olds and helping some of the “big” four-year-old girls make cards for Mother’s Day. It was a peaceful afternoon and I got to listen to the rain and watch it absolutely pouring down all around us. Two little three-year-old girls came up to me, their entire body language saying BORED, and told me, “Leah, we need it to stop raining.” as if I had control over the weather. “I’m sorry, girls, I know you want to play outside, but there’s really not much I can do about the rain.” Then I was struck by inspiration. “Have you ever heard of a rain dance?” They looked at me and shook their heads. “Let me show you.” So we walked to the edge of the deck that looked out onto the playground and I showed them how to do a “rain dance” to get the rain to stop. I started with my arms straight up over my head and then I brought them down, all the while wiggling my fingers in the imitation of rain and saying “Raaaa-iiiii-n” and then I did a little jump, landed with my legs spread, and stuck my arms out in the “halt” gesture and said “Stop!” The little girls copied me and pretty soon they were just standing there doing it over and over again. I got such a kick out of watching them do it. Every once in a while the rain would start to let up and I’d hear them whispering to each other about how it was working. Eventually the rain did stop and the little girls were pretty sure it was because of them. It was absolutely adorable.
Can I get in trouble for making children think they can control the weather? I hope not.
My mom sent me an article the other day about how scientists are training and studying jumping spiders so they can figure out what it is in their anatomy that allows them to jump so they can replicate it in arachnid-like robots. I can now add “death by giant jumping spider robot” to my list of unrealistic fears. As if my brain needs more ridiculous worries banging around.
Say hello to your impending doom……
It’s raining and gloomy outside which to me says “nap-time”. I’ll probably dream about robot spiders now.