Today I walked Chelsea* to the kindergarten bathroom. They were repairing the first grade bathrooms. Afterwards, she got a drink from the short kindergarten drinking fountain. (Seriously, I could probably sit "criss-cross applesauce" on the floor and drink from it.) She exclaimed, "Why is it so short now? It was taller when I was in kindergarten!"
Classic, textbook dev. psych. love it.
It's interesting how days start to turn into weeks and months when your life is somewhat stable. In retrospect, one of the reasons Spain was so exhausting is that I never had monotony. This may sound romantic and glorious, but part our brain loves autonomization. (sp?)
I'm listening to Silvio Rodriguez right now, a South American musician who masterfully disguised critiques of colonization and corrupt Latin American governments behind the most beautiful love songs I've ever heard. It makes me wonder how I'd view life if my childhood would have been filled with violence. I'd probably have a very different view of the world. What that has to do with the first story, I have no idea. Go figure. I feel a little bit like my brain is trying to think about many things and in order to tell you about them all, I'd have to sit down and word vomit. And I don't feel like doing that when I could be taking the trash out and reading a book.
this is why I am not a good blogger when i am not in a foreign land.
*Name changed, as usual.