Kids

Sometimes I want to kidnap all the growth-stunted kids I know and feed them a feast of fruit, vegetables and meat. And bake them banana bread. To my American eyes, they look like starving mouths running around chirping "Feed me! Feed me!", although they´re so used to not eating enough, it´s normal to them. I remember when I was their age eating Chef Boyardi snacks in between 3 bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch or oatmeal breakfasts, pizza tater tot chocolate milk apple lunches, big T-bone steak Chinese veggies dinners and bowls of fruit late at night. I bet they eat about a third of what I did at their age. Sometimes I´ll give them fruit if they´re in my house. Once they asked me to buy them bananas, which I happily did (they didn´t ask for cookies or soda!), but that´s just a drop in the bucket. I still don´t understand what my host family has against me serving the remainder of my dinner to the growing kids. It´s definitely a cultural thing. Growth stunted people are all around me. That´s why it´s so difficult for me to guess people´s ages. I thought a co-worked was 13 but he´s my age. I´m more than a head taller than he is!

It also still pains me when the host family disciplines the children when I don´t think they need to be disciplined. I think it´s so important for kids to be loud and silly sometimes...that´s why childhood is the happiest time of your life. You´re the most uninhibited that you´ll be in your lifetime. You feel free. I don´t think you should make kids stop being happy unless they´re being spoiled or bratty or rude. Yet another cultural thing. Although I don´t think we Americans could ever agree on how or when you should disclipline children.

My host sister, Jenny, is getting married on September 23rd. Every day another issue comes up. Invitations, her dress, the location, the band, etc. This is going to be a huge bash. I guess that´s appropriate since she´s marrying someone relatively wealthy, rich for this community. He even has his own car, and he´s not even a cab driver. Of course, when there´s a pause in the wedding-themed conversations, someone in the extended host family inevitably turns to me and asks, "So when are you going to get married? Maybe you´ll fall in love with someone here in town and you´ll stay. How many kids do you want?" To which I reply with an unanimated smile and, if I´m in a mercurial mood, a wisecrack. Still haven´t been able to drop the "0" bomb. 0 kids I want, 00-00-0000 is the date I´m getting married. Living in Perú has confirmed that even the angelic kids aren´t welcome in my life every hour every day every month every year. Even Mariuliú, who hangs out on my bed with me like we´re best friends, sings me all the songs she learned in school, asks me to sing songs in English, listens with fascination as I read to her pages and pages of my English-language novel out loud, and tells me that tomorrow we should go to my house so we can visit my parents...even she has her demonic moments.

This week is Fiestas Patrias, the Peruvian Independence Day. Of course there have been parades all week. Most of my friends are using our free vacation days. Since I´m going to BRAAAAAASIL with my (biological) family in mid-August I´ve decided to lay low and stay in town. I don´t regret it at the moment since it´ll be nice to just spend time getting to know my host family even better and read and chill out.