The little 4-year-old boy threw
another tantrum today (he’s thrown one or two in the past couple days,
especially when he’s getting tired and cranky). Natalie, the other volunteer,
sagely commented how it’s telling that he’s getting more comfortable here, that
he is throwing these tantrums. And it’s so true. Sometimes when the baby is
having a particularly bad day, I have the terrible thought that she was easier
to deal with before she had a personality. I constantly have to remind myself
to be thankful for the tears and tantrums. Our greatest blessing in disguise is
that our 2-year-old and 4-year-old are behaving like normal kids, which
includes occasional screaming, tantrums, and throwing of things.
Yesterday morning the water wasn’t
running and I had just gone for a run, so I was badly in need of a shower. However,
I was able to collect a bucket-full of water dribbling out from different taps
for a bucket bath—the RPCV in me got to shine for a moment.
This afternoon during the
educational activities we heard thunder rolling across the valley, coming
steadily toward us. As the black clouds quickly approached, I finally made the
executive decision to end activities 15 minutes early. I’m glad I did because
two minutes later a dust blizzard attacked us. My distant memories of snow and
blizzards tell me they aren’t too fun, but dust is infinitely worse. Getting pelted
in the face, eyes, and mouth by dust is painful, uncomfortable and horrible. I made
a beeline for my house to immediately plug in my phone and computer, then
sprinted to the shower—in anticipation that the power and water would go out
and I didn’t want to have another showerless morning.
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