--- (Background: The kids have an intense fascination with water. The garden hose, spray bottles, the sink, mud puddles… you name it. J The bathroom is a popular place to congregate and ultimately throw water all over the floor.)
So I’m cooking, and a kid comes trotting from the direction of the bathroom through the kitchen.
Me: What’d you just do?
Kid: Number 2!
Alriiiiighy…. J
David: I don’t like the feel of flour
Me: Hmm… then you probably won’t be a baker when you grow up, huh?
One of the girls to me: Are YOU going to be a baker when you grow up?
Me: Yeah… when I grow up… I’ll probably be a baker.
And it’s true! I’ve loved baking and cooking for the kiddos down here. I probably shouldn’t evaluate my cooking based on the reactions of a bunch of 4-7 year olds, but they are generally complimentary.
Except this time:
Kid: “Tia, we don’t eat this in Bolivia. This is gross. Do they cook this in your country?”
Me: “No… we don’t eat this in my country either” (*laughing, ‘cause I wanted to say, “Honey, hate to break it to you, but this was today’s lunch that you didn’t like. But I did some tweaking to it and you don’t even recognize it…”*)
Kid: “Well, if it’s not eaten in Bolivia, and it’s not eaten in your country… then WHY DID YOU COOK IT????”
I think she’ll grow up to be a lawyer. J
--- Jiggling the 2-year-old to sleep in my arms in the dark, watching a sunset over the mountains, and silent lightning across the sky, feeling the strong breeze through the open window…
--- Seeing a cow in a taxi. Yes, a real live calf. (Since relatively few people down here have their own cars (or trailers!), one sees all sorts of things in public transportation!)
--- The personally-owned vehicles are none too boring either – the other day I saw a big old Nissan truck… with 2 old nuns driving/riding!


