Two mornings a week I volunteer at Mr 5's Prep class. It's always a lovely experience. I help the children with their readers and teach them and test them on sight words. The most rewarding aspect of this little activity isn't the focus on learning however, it is the funny conversations I have with these little people. They are a mix of the vivacious, polite, shy, cheeky and brutally honest.
For instance; one little cherub informed me that "I smell just like Daddy", probably because I had to borrow Hubby's deodorant that morning after having run out of my own. Another informed me that I have 'big teeth', ummmmm, yes, yes I do, thanks for noticing. One likes to correct me. Another acts as though reading to me is the greatest torment of their little life.
Some are bursting at the seams to tell me every tiny nuance of their day. 'I ate breakfast this morning, I cleaned my teeth, the dog ran away, we had to chase it, I put my shoes on all by myself'. I love this. I love how the simplest things, the most mundane, come to life in a child's eyes. The excitement of just 'being' is infectious.
They show me their wobbly teeth, their grazed knees, the bruised apple in their lunch box, their love letter to the teacher. It's all beautiful, amazing, incredible. The joy on their little faces when they accomplish something new. The pride when you give them the accolades they so deserve.
The other day I received my own love letter from a little person in my son's class;