Soon, he brings out a pile of books, he and his brother sit close, and I start reading them stories. Curious George. The Bearenstein bears. They laugh as I try different voices for the characters, and they start trying to guess who will get my "real voice." Soon, the sisters have gathered around too and I'm reading to most of the family.
In a pause between stories, they want to know what my job will be when I'm finished school. Guess! I say, laughing.
A doctor?
Nope!
A dentist?
I laugh. Nope!
A Police Officer?
Nope!
A Firefighter (well...actually...they said a firetruck. But I dont think that's what they meant.)
Definitely not.
They begin to get exasperated. Which I must admit, makes me laugh more.
In the mean time, their mother sits on the floor, her legs crossed, her scarf slowly falling off her head, her hands occupied as she peels potatoes. She listens to the story - and I long for the day when she'll understand it like her children do. I see her watching me with the kids piled on top of me, trying to see the pictures and read the words. I see her smile as I smile. My eyes meet hers, as I say
A teacher, I think.
