You know small children really like you when they start hitting you, clinging on to your leg and throwing soap at you. All at the same time. Yes?
For the next two weeks I'm working at a kids club, that has the general vague aim of teaching a group of 3-9 year olds some titbits of French and Spanish, but is basically just cheap holiday childcare and thus involves a lot of colouring in.
Like, a lot. And the only things we have for them to colour are butterflies, flowers and flags. But they all seem really into it, which makes me think children are getting lazier and less cool.
The only thing I remember really distressing me as a young child was being made to colour in. The keeping inside the lines, the unsatisfying distribution of tones from cheap pencils (definately not crayola), that horrible greyish paper.
One of the girls called me Mummy today. She didn't eat her pack of oatmeal and raisin mini-cookies at lunch, but I resisted the urge to nyom them. All the children there had formed an opinion on avacado, and the vast majority had completely organic lunches, with lame fruit bars rather than actual sweets. I feel this gives an accurate representation of the type of parents who make their 3 year olds learn a foreign language during the holidays, rather than letting them bum around in front of cbeebies.
Savez-vous planter les choux?
With our nose, apparently.
