Yesterday was my first day back at school after summer vacation. I'd forgotten how small four-year olds are, and was somewhat taken aback. When I spend much of the day sitting at their tables coloring or eating, or on my knees helping them with buttons or chatting, or going down the slide with them for the dozenth time, somehow they seem to grow to my height, or I to theirs.
I'd also forgotten how good it feels, that no matter how much of the general adult populace might stare at me, or eye me suspiciously, or regard me in everything as a bumbling incompetent fool, that many of their children choose me to come to when there are tears to be comforted, or laps to be sat upon, or hugs to give, or drawings to show off, and that just because I can't talk to them about anything I do after work, let alone go grab a drink with them on the weekend, they really are still pretty good friends. I hope they remember their big white friend someday when they are adults, and I wish everyone could have a member of an ill-stereotyped group as a childhood friend.
I brought home a quarter-suitcase of Reese's peanut butter cups for omiyage (souvenirs/gifts). So far, the adults I've given them to have mostly said they're too sweet, but then soon sheepishly asked for more. The children took theirs home to eat, but seemed very excited about the prospect of "America no choco."