I woke up this morning in the dark, an all-too familiar experience that lets you know without question that the relief of the holiday has come to an end and you have been flung once more into the race of life. For about thirty minutes i wrestled with a sense of dread. However, as i went through my morning routine the warmth began to return. I could hear the laughter and screams of the children reverberating through my floorboards from below. By the time i had swallowed the last sweet drop of coffee most of my dread had dwindled. I descended the stairs, took a deep breath and pushed the door to the playroom open. The reception i got there was warm but not overstated. Rather than shrieking in excitement from having not seen me for two weeks, the children were primarily concerned with telling me that Martin (a former coworker who has returned for a few months to help out) was back and now there were two boy teachers!!

I proceeded to the back room where i have now been assigned and had morning circle with the two year olds. This consists of attempting to wrangle two little ones into an activity that involves standing in place, singing, listening and doing the proscribed movements. Needless to say, our first attempt was not altogether perfect. In the first few moments the children were intrigued. This was a new format for them and before they realized they were expected to do anything, they did it voluntarily and out of curiosity. However, once it became apparent that we wanted them to participate the magic quickly faded. On one hand Lila broke away from the circle, pressing her face into the carpet and pushing herself along with her back legs in a movement reminiscent of a bulldozer. On the other young Isaac was flapping his little arms and jumping 360, although at least in one place. Slowly Isaac managed to flap down to a small fidget but Lila continued to doze the carpet with her face. Sadly i saw the dreaded sidewards flit of the eyes from my fellow coworker and activity leader which said, "she needs to go," whereupon i had no choice but to hook the little one under the arms and carry her now arch-backed and protesting body from the sunny little room into an adjacent, equally sunny 'time-out' room.

There we sat together, me in a little blue chair and her on the floor screaming unholy murder. At this point i had no choice but to resort to my trusty, divert-attention-out-the-window trick. Much to my delight there was a cat walking along the fence edge in the back yard, a surefire distraction for any little one caught in the chasms of irate shrieking so deeply that even she couldn't remember what she was carrying on about. Withing minutes she was pushing her little head between me and the window, begging to see the kitty cat. Unfortunately it was too little too late. The cat's time had come and gone, but she had forgotten her fury and all was well in the time-out room again.

(to be continued)