I´m not a kids person. They are cute to play with for a day or two tops but after that I´m pretty much over it.
So when I arrived in Santa Cruz and found out that for the next two months I would be the big sister to three young boys I was a little frightened. I knew that it was only a matter of time until I had enough and I reached my breaking point.
I waited for my anger and frustration to boil over as I woke up each morning to the loud yells for Mammma! And I was sure I wouldn´t be able to handle much of the late night games and loud cartoons as I tried to fall asleep. (Anyone who knows me well understands that it is not advised to piss me off while I´m sleeping) I wasn´t sure how to react the first time I set Sergio on my lap only to find that he had very wet and stinky pants. And part of me felt certain that I should be angry when I walked into my room and found Joel and a puddle of urine sitting next to my bed.
I thought that I would reach my limit and that I would need a break from the non-stop yelling of three very vocally gifted boys who love to pop balloons, run their toys into the walls, and run up and down the hallway pretending to be animals.
But it hasn´t happened. Every time I think I am near the point of anger it quickly subsides. I have found that my ability to love these boys grows with each day. They win me over constantly. Every day they do something new and something undeniably cute.
At lunch time it is their harmonious humming in the same tone as the blender.
In the afternoon it is Joel yelling ´Hola Kari!´(Pronounced Car-Ree) at the top of his lungs every time he walks by my open door.
When Grandpa Hugo is around it is Sergio´s adorable salute to his dedicated Papito.
Today it was Christian beating me in a damn good game of chess.
And every day it is their smiles, their laughs, and of course their mess that endears them to me.