Spiderman at the Park

I babysat yesterday. No, that wasn’t quite right. I spent all afternoon directing the actions of an adorable energetic 5 yr old. I’ve been babysitting since I was twelve but this was the first time I actually felt like a mom. A mom! I don’t know why I suddenly felt so parental. I mean, I’ve been with my 8 1/2 yr old a couple times a week every week since getting back from Jordan (3 months ago) and never felt any such inkling. But there I was, telling him to take his clothes to his room and to do his homework (he complained about it for five minutes before looking in his backpack and discovering he didn’t have any) and to share with the other kids. It’s not like I normally let my charges languish on the couch, clothes strewn about and homework untouched while I drink a martini on the chaise. But I said it with such authority! Sure, he argued, but only when his little arms were full and his legs were already carrying him up the stairs.


That was a tangent. Actually the whole point of this post is to tell you about my afternoon at the park, which actually has nothing to do with the boy I was babysitting or the sudden So This Is What It’s Like bit.

When we got to the park, there was a small flock of children. These kids, in fact:

And then a few more. They were shy, but unmistakably curious. I said hello as my non-son ran off to the playground. And then the oldest introduced herself in Arabic and I realized they really weren’t shy; they just couldn’t understand what I was saying. She introduced her sister and brother and another girl that was with them entirely in Arabic.


I did my best to understand, and did a good job of it. But as for communicating? FAIL.

It struck me as I was uploading these pictures: I could retake them. But my camera is upstairs and I am lazy.

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