Mud+snot+four-year-olds just seem to go together.
Today was a day full of both. All three, actually I should say (apart from the fact that all of my days are full of four-year-olds). I handed out tissues to catch runny noses and cleaned muddy boots before I lined them up neatly. I made snowflakes and drank pretend tea from tiny plastic cups. I praised and I scolded in equal measure. I drew fire engines, read story books about libraries and witches and potties. I mopped up spilled milk. I tidied up toys, endless toys. I opened drinks and sandwich boxes and coaxed little people to fill their tummies with just a few more bites. I built a pretend snowman and flew in the air, waving to the people and houses below. I cast magic spells on impish children who were frogs and trains and racing cars. I sang. I sing every day with a kind of forced, manic joviality that one must have around four-year-olds who are tired and grumpy and want their lunch or just want to go home and watch cbeebies. Songs about sheep and monkeys and stars. Always stars.
The rain fell. Hence the mud. The sky stayed grey.
I’m still waiting for the sun.
I don’t think I have ever mentioned in my blog that I work with a girl who is visually impaired. Her favourite colour is yellow. Sunshine yellow. She chooses it every time over any shade of baby blue or girly pink or fire-engine red. I print all of her work on yellow because it seems that her searching eyes find it easier to rest on that gentle, warm colour than the stark glare of white.
(Last year I started a little series of posts themed around colour)