Today was an unusually temperate afternoon in the village. A relatively chilly breeze tossed the branches of my bajelly tree around and my neighbor’s wind chime complimented the sounds of motorbikes speeding by. The change of climate was a welcome surprise. However, my activities for the afternoon were fairly standard and routine. I wrapped up the last chapters of a good book just in time. Like clockwork, the sound of my name coming from a sweet small voice rang through the front room of my house.
Little Jaz.
After an hour or so of playing on the public exercise equipment at the park next to my house, Jaz and I had had collected the company of our usual crew. The kids were thirsty and knew just where to find the good stuff. They asked if I had any coke in my house, already knowing the answer. Before I could finish telling them to help themselves, they were already sprinting towards my front door. After making sure everyone had a cup of the glorified acid (each one about one-fourth full), I spout off with my standard lecture. “Remember, kids, Coke makes your teeth black. You kids have to brush your teeth real good tonight.” They love it when I say this. They all laugh like I’ve just told the best joke they ever heard.
The following hour or so is spent building forts out of my extra bedding, watching cartoons on my laptop, and picking berries from the bajelly tree to throw at each other. The time flies by and before we know it, the sun is deep in the west. By this point, I’m happy to kick the precious little people out of my house and send them home. No need to miss them. They’ll be right back again tomorrow.
Today, I realized my life isn’t all that different from the life I lived those seven or eight years before coming to Thailand. Forts, cartoons, flying berries… I don’t think I’d know how to stop being a nanny if I tried.
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