As soon as I come in, it's a flood. A flood of curious questions, proud remarks and general affection. I barely have the time to answer that my name is Anna (to those who don't know me yet, or forgot), say a friendly "Salut! Ca va bien?" to one of the more familiar kids and record that one little girl is going to be Cinderella for Halloween, when it seems like all the kids are suddenly around me, telling me about their costumes, asking me for my name again, asking if I remember them, talking about... God know what! I just have the time to flash a smile here, give a hug there and give out a few general comments ("Aw, c'est bien ca!" "Ooo, que c'est interessant!"), only half aware what I'm commenting on and who I'm telling it to. By the time the kids line up for the bathroom, the commotion settles a bit and I get a moment to breath. "Wow, I've missed this! I realize, I'm back in my element."
My element, that's all I can call it, because it makes me happy. Even with the most difficult kids, you have nice, tender moments or moments that make you wanna stretch you mouth into a grin so wide your jaw ends up hurting.
"Je suis tanante des fois!"
"Je raffole des fruits de mer!" (coming from a four-year-old)
How can you not smile at that?
Of course these are dispersed among other moments, less entertaining ones (or rather, entertaining, but in a different way).
"Il a pris mon jouet!"
"Mais elle en a deja deux!"
Damn, dilemma! One the one hand, I can't encourage taking without asking, on the other hand, I can't encourage hogging either!
"Bon, si vous ne pouvez pas vous entendre, c'est moi qui prends le jouet!"
Fair enough? Who ever thought that working at a daycare improved your diplomacy skills?
I guess what I'm really trying to do is transmit a bit of what I feel and maybe, just maybe, get you to smile once or twice.
Moral of the story: daycare rocks.
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