English Camp, Lots of Fun.


Almost make up for these:

"Teacher Can I Go to the Toilet"  "Teacher Can I Go to the Toilet?"  "Teacher Can I Go to the Toilet?"

"I hate English Camp!"

"I'm calling the Polizia."

"Teacher Can I Go to the Toilet?"


"I won't sit by her" (in huffy English/Italian)

"I'm wanna call my Mom!"

"Max-eh. Max-eh. Max-eh"  (The little Italianos can't end Max's name with the "s" sound so it comes out with a vowel at the end.  And always whiny.  I think it's funny.  He doesn't.)

Awesome.  I know.  Friday and Monday were real doozies for us, but I think we are a little less homicidal now.  In a moment of desperation my Sweet Max made up a song right on the spot for our kiddos to sing.  It's called "Camerino".

English Camp, lots of fun.
Singing songs with everyone.

Camerino, Camerino (...think, "Colorado")

Playing Games, making toys.
Fun for girls, fun for boys.

Camerino, Camerino

Games outside, fun indoors.
Ones and Twos, Threes and Fours.

Camerino, Camerino
Camerino, Camerino.

They actually love it and during the "Camerino" bit they move their arms over their heads like the sun.  I don't know, it just came to me.

For a few months now I've been trying to get Max to agree to some sort of suicide pact in the event of an "eat your family and children" post-apocalyptic world.  I know, it's pretty morbid and it seems like a crazy thing to think about, but I've read The Road (well, the parts I could muster).  I'd rather die than live in that kind of chaos.  And maybe living in the bomb shelter "safe room" of our Jerusalem apartment really got me thinking...  ANYWAY, this morning we were trying to think of a silver lining to what has turned out to be much harder than we'd expected and I said to Max in all seriousness "Well, we are that much more prepared for an Apocalypse.  We might not have to kill each other after all."

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