I must apologize for being less regular about my posting. The thing is, now that I’m working at the kindergarten five days a week, most of my stories fit for public consumption involve three-year-olds saying cute things, which is nice I suppose, but I don’t want this to become The Kindergarten Blog!

I will say this, though — today Tima, who is one of the youngest and newest kids in the kindergarten, who barely talks in Russian, let alone English, suddenly started saying my name and one of the other teachers’ names. He was being all cute and cuddly and pointing to me and saying “Megan!” Awww.

Recently I was asked whether working with children encourages or discourages my “maternal instincts.” I guess it discourages them, not because the work is unpleasant, but because the instincts in question are more than sufficiently fulfilled by spending a few hours with kids at their very cutest age, reading them stories and feeding them soup — then I get to leave and get drunk and watch R-rated movies and go out with friends and not have to worry about being responsible for anyone else. Not to mention not having to deal with diapers (nappies, that is, at the British Kindergarten) and a household littered with toys, eek. So, really, it’s the perfect arrangement. But I suppose this is the selfish attitude of the postmodern twentysomething urban dweller and is symptomatic of the breakdown of the family in western society. My apologies, western society.