never tired

"what's nine times seven?" - the eight-year-old that i babysit, asking a question that is clearly biased toward eight-year-olds

pizza?

how many is several??

"divine intervention"

the younger of the two boys that i babysit is six-years-old and in first grade.  the word to describe this kid is "happy."

his older brother, who is equally as special, is in their parents' office doing homework.  the younger one and i twenty feet away, in the living room trying to keep quiet.  he says "i want to play with you!" and i know he means it.  i also know that i can show this kid anything, and there is a good chance it will be the first time he's seen it.  i ask him if he's every played "hot hands."  one's persons hands are held palms up in front of them, the other person places their hands palms down on top.  the person on bottom tries to slap the hands of the person on top--the person on top tries to evade.

i knew when i introduced it that there was a one hundred percent chance that he was going to love it.

a) he had never heard of it before

b) he loves everything

c) it involved hitting

d) i was going to win every time, and he is still young enough to think that is funny and not annoying

first, i'm the slapper.  i do that thing where you twitch your hands a little bit on the bottom, so the slap-ee thinks you are going to move and pulls their hands back to evade.  he never didn't fall for that trick.  it is like he forgot that he was tricked the time before after every successive instance of being tricked.  he later tried to replicate this technique while it was his turn to be the slapper, and did so by keeping his hands in place and sharply jolting his forhead down.

it quickly and expectadely turned into a simpler game.  this one was where he would mumble rapidly "one, two three, go!" and then slap my hands and laugh.  we never changed roles in that game.  

this kid laughed nonstop for fifteen minutes. 

i looked at the clock and it was seven forty five.  these children rarely see past the hour of nine. i told the younger one that i had to stop and went in to check on the older one.  he was done with his homework.  i got them upstairs and into their pajams which has increasingly become a task.  they brushed their teeth.  i accidentally read to the younger one for about twenty minutes too long because the book was about sharks and i was learning a lot.  by eight thirty they were both assumedly sleeping. 

i have no idea what they think i am doing downstairs while they are upstairs falling asleep. 

-- 

i think it's important that we still believe that one day we'll be bigger than beyonce.  i feel like that is what she would want us to be telling ourselves.  in other news, i love her short hair.