3 year old's

I am nannying for 2 girls, the older is tough, her instinctive reaction to anything is a serious tantrum-like episode, but I don't entertain tantrums and she is starting to learn that there is no point in exercising these theatrics with me- that's not to say they've disappeared but, we shut the tear factory down pretty quick. She is about to turn 4 and is adjusting to having left her life in the suburbs of Boston and living in another language and a completely different lifestyle- it's an adjustment. But she is my favorite, when you're teaching you always have your favorites, they're usually not the toughest, but they usually have a sly something or other. S would not normally be my favorite but because she's almost 4 she and I can talk which is a life saver in this kind of job. A is only 2 and it's tough to share ideas, feelings and secrets. S is at that age where almost everything she says is 'why' this is not the part I like, but she does say some pretty funny stuff. The other day she asked me who came out of my mom's belly first, my boyfriend, or me. I'm older than Sylvain, so I said, me, her follow up was- so does he sleep in a crib? I laughed and said, "no" and she wondered, so, is he like 3 or 4?

One day when I was leaving S followed me down the stairs a bit, I asked if she was planning on coming home with me, because I didn't have an extra bed, she suggested she could sleep on top of me. Mais, non.

When I started this job, I started thinking a lot about what I was like around 3, and my memories of my life then, in doing so I started telling S about my life as a kid, mostly because what else do you talk about with an almost 4 year old, she doesnt care about my visa problems, that I think I'm starting to look my age, or how I miss being a teacher. In fact, she doesn't want an art teacher for a babysitter- which is a bit of a point of contention between us- because for my own self-image, I need to still be an art teacher, and for whatever reason she really doesn't want me to be one.

In the grand scheme of things I landed about the best job I could have found as a clandestine in Paris. I'm so lucky, and I know as banal as the daily routine of changing poop filled diapers and scheming to get them to eat- literally standing there and feeling my blood pressure raised while 2 little girls mange their dejeuner hoping that broccoli doesn't get thrown across the table and that the 20 minutes passes without tears that I can learn a lot from this experience. Maybe to become a better teacher, maybe to prepare me to become a mother. Admittedly I was ready to put that dream to bed after my first week, but if I could start motherhood with a 4 year old and take all the bathroom and diaper elements out of it, I think I could manage.