It Sure is Good

October 2

Our toilet has been having some probs lately. If you don’t want to know about that I suggest you do not read this blog.

Last night, Luis Migel desperately needed to use the bathroom. “Yo necessito caca alto, Teacher! Alto!” He declared, throwing his hand above his head in desperation.

In case you don’t know, the literal translation of that is “I need to poop tall.”

Cute, I know.

The cool thing is our toilet hasn’t really been working properly. It just won’t flush. And this kid was determined he would not use the bathroom until he fixed the toilet.

And so? While I put the other boys to bed, Luis Migel locked himself in the bathroom. I could hear him fill the bucket up over and over again and throw the water down the toilet in an attempt to flush it.

Every now and then I’d knock on the door. “Are you done yet?”

“Ahh!!! No!!” he’d say, “Yo necessito caca alto, Teacher! Alto!”

(sorry for the TMI. There just really would be no story without it.)

And then the door would slam shut. And once again I’d hear him fill up the bucket and throw the water down the toilet, fill up the bucket and throw the water down the toilet.

And I just stood there with my hands in the air thinking

I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into.

Soon enough little Hugo was doing a dance behind the bathroom door.

“Do you need to go, too?”

“Si, Teacher. Mucho! Mucho!”

These boys. They love to wait to go to the bathroom until after I put them to bed. It’s adorable.

I finally decided to take Hugo and Luis Migel next door to the Frijole’s house, as they happen to have a working bathroom.

I turned the lights off in the house and told the other boys I’d be right back.

“I’m so nervous, Teacher!” they said. I’m not sure if they were just saying that to be babies, but honestly I can get a little nervous alone in the dark in that house so I told them I’d be gone five minutes tops.

“I’m counting!” Henry said, and I could hear him counting out loud as I shut the door.

Sidenote: On my way outside I got attacked by ants. There are these super creepy ants here that have giant eyes and super long legs and they crawl onto you and grip on tight and then bite you. Adorable, right? I hate them. And I find them everywhere: in my skirt, crawling up into my bed, all over my shoes. BAH THEY DRIVE ME CRAY. Anyways, on my way out the door they were biting me everywhere. They were all over my flipflops. I started screaming and jumping up and down and being incredibly dramatic and little eight-year-old Hugo ran over and saved me. He grabbed my flipflops, killed the ants, and then wiped the few survivors off my shoes. Meanwhile I hopped around on the sidewalk like the world was ending. So just in case you were wondering if I’m a jungle beast yet? I’m not. Also it’s slightly embarrassing to be calmed down by an eight-year-old.

We got to the Frijole’s house and I let Kevin know why the boys were there. Based on what Luis Migel had told me and also knowing he happens to spend hours in the bathroom every day, I decided to head on home and just tell the boys to come back when they were finished, being that I had a feeling they’d be in there more than five minutes.

I got to my room and was sitting in my tent when, a few minutes later, I heard giggling and got up to see two little bodies sneaking into the house, thinking I wouldn’t see them.

For those of you who want to learn how to sneak into a house, giggling super loudly and crawling dramatically is not the way to do it.

I told those crazy boys they needed to brush their teeth and go to bed.

I found my way back to my tent when, a few minutes later, I looked up to see Luis Migel and Hugo standing in my doorway.

Sopping wet.

Head to toe.

Evidently what was supposed to be brushing their teeth turned into a water fight.

And I just sat there with my hands in the air thinking

I don’t know what I have gotten myself into.

Hugo looked from Luis Migel to me, and then back to Luis Migel, and then back to me.

And then he broke out in that little giggle of his that makes me wonder if there is any sound in the world that contains more joy.

And then Luis Migel started to crack a little smile.

And then I lost it.

I laughed so hard. And the three of us just stayed there, in my room, late at night, giggling away.

That same night I had just gotten all the boys in trouble for misbehaving at Casa Grande. They had been running around and not listening and throwing water and my goodness I was so frustrated with them.

So when we got home I gave them a big stern talking to, and three of them ended up crying. Which makes me think I may have finally finally found my stern look.

There was a part of me that was glad they had gotten the point and thought maybe they would learn their lesson. But another part of me? Well, I liked it a whole lot better when they just came home and played.

And so? When Luis Migel and Hugo had a little water fight? Well, I decided to let this one go.

And my word, what is cuter than little giggling jungle boys.

Eventually I told them they needed to change their clothes and get in bed, as sleeping with sopping wet clothes was probably not the wisest idea.

I walked with them to their rooms to make sure they changed. Luis Migel took off his shirt so that he was just wearing his pants.

“Can I, Teacher? Can I?!” he asked, wondering if he was allowed to sleep without a shirt.

As it is about five thousand and seventy eight degrees here on a good night, I told him he could.

Immediately little Hugo tore off his shirt, thinking it was the most exciting and hilarious thing ever, and leaped into bed.

I walked into my room and listened to them giggle into the night, thinking

my word I love my boys.

This life is made up of so many moments.

Jahel called me mom for the first time this week.

I just started teaching fifth grade English. There’s a boy in the class named Daniel (he’s actually Fermin’s brother) who isn’t a huge fan of school. He seemed grumpy in class and I had a feeling he definitely wasn’t loving it. Last Friday night after vespers when I went to hug him, he looked up at me and said, “English is very good, Teacher.” Ah. I am so glad you think so. Thank you.

Last night as I was walking home Armando ran outside to give me a giant hug. And then I looked up to see Dagner running over, his arms open wide, saying, “I love you!”

Maribel just got a super short haircut that is cute as ever, and she keeps climbing onto benches and looking over at me, asking if she can jump and begging me to catch her.

Last night Fermin was in trouble so he couldn’t go to the Big House with everyone else to watch the movie. I turned the lights off in the house and put him to bed. After about ten minutes of crying, he walked into my room, holding his little stuffed cat. “I’m scared, Teacher.”

And so I talked to him, told him if he would have listened this wouldn’t be a problem. And then picked him up and let him sleep in my hammock in my room until the other boys came home.

There’s moments that make me run around in circles, throwing Maribel in the air or chasing Jahel or hopping up and down as ants attack my feet.

And then there are moments that leave me standing still, as a kid calls me mom for the first time, or as I look up at the stars and think about how small my problems are, or as Hugo and Luis Migel stand in my doorway, finding more joy in a little water fight than many find in an entire day.

And it leaves me speechless, standing with my hands in the air

thinking

I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into but it sure is good.