Part One of this day is called, Nerves. I was worried that I wouldn’t think of anything to do with my kids. Or that I wouldn’t be theatrical and crazy enough for them. Or that they wouldn’t understand anything I did or said. On one hand I didn’t know if I had what it took to go through the orientation week either, but it turned out I did…so I hoped camp would be the same way.
Part Two is called, Italian Children Love Love LOVE to Love You. Yes, that many love’s are necessary as even one less just would not accurately describe just how much Italian children love on you. I have a class of ten 8 and 9-year-old boys and girls. The girls hold your hand, hug you, kiss you, etc. The boys…well some hug and kiss too, but only after they drag you around by the hand, praise your long hair, propose marriage and make you a card professing their love.
That’s right, I’m engaged now. Everyone said I’d meet an Italian while I was over here…
But really, a boy at the camp calls me “mi amore” (my love). He made me a card with a picture of me on it with hearts and brought me flowers. Seriously. This kid is 7. One of the other kids called him a womanizer. For real. Ha.
Apparently, this is all quite normal in Italy. At orientation we were encouraged to let the kids hug us or hold our hand if they want to. This is all very funny to me after working at the YMCA, where you can only hug by turning sideways and barely patting the kid, and even then it’s discouraged.
Part Three is called, The Consequences of Blow Drying Hair. And no, I’m not talking about split ends or dried out hair.
Tonight after my shower, I started to blow dry my hair. I know, seems pretty normal right? Then, all of a sudden, I’m not blow drying my hair anymore.
So at first, I’m embarrassed because apparently I blew the bathroom fuse somehow (it worked fine yesterday) and that’s going to be awkward to explain and apologize for. But then I hear feet coming up the stairs towards the bathroom. And I knew.
I blew the fuse for the entire apartment. Every single thing. The oven turned off in the middle of Michela cooking dinner. The tv turned off in the middle of the kids watching “How to Train Your Dragon.” …And I thought explaining and apologizing for just the bathroom fuse was going to be awkward. I felt SO bad. Michela had to go all the way to the garage under the apartment complex 5 floors down to reset everything. Twice. Ack.
Hey, it could’ve been worse.
I could’ve blown the fuses for the entire complex too…There’s always tomorrow.