[Previous entry: "Pretty Paper"] [Next entry: "Men"]
12/19/2003: "Kids"
How can anybody so cute be so irritating? I am not talking about her, for once -- she's back from Polynesia and stumbling through the darkness and the slush like the rest of us. I am not talking about myself, for once -- well, I am, but not primarily about myself. I am talking about the phalanx of nearly-indistinguishable threes and fours who invade our nursery school every weekday. The one thing you can be sure of: The cuter they are, the deadlier the explosive within. And now, a week before Christmas, they're all jazzed up, and it's too cold and icy for them to set foot outside. So it's an endless montage of songs and sass: of running in the halls and nose-picking and not being quite competent to use the water fountain without dripping on the floor,the front, and the face; of hitting when the teacher's back is turned; of insults only a four-year-old would understand, or get upset over; of theatrical weeping fits and uncontrollable rages; of naps over too soon, which do little but undermine their already vanishing emotional stability. And yet: When I go into the classroom to change a lightbulb, I am greeted with shy awe and admiration. For those few minutes, I am Prometheus.
