Party like you’re FIVE

Played this for the first time for a bunch of 5 year olds:

and the response was outrageous.  They looked at each other and immediately hopped and spun out of their seats, screaming and oogachakaing and laughing.  Within seconds there were bodies on the floor, there was snaking and MichaelJacksoning of all types, there was hugging and squeezing and moshing and hands-like-guns-shooting and chasing and head gyrating and ring-around-the-rosie and booty-bumping and macarena and hip-slapping and cheerleading and choo-choo train and ballet spins and dance dips and fake fainting.  And, “Again!  Again!  Again!” when it was over.

Party like you’re FIVE.  That’s the new black.


The other day I was chopping some cilantro and some garlic and there was a cooked sweet potato near me. Nothing else to smell, just maybe the kitchen, though nothing much was going on yet. The pan was warming up some oil. It was the early evening and I had just gotten home so there might have also been some random smell attached to what I was wearing- you know how sometimes you bring smells back with you? Well my hands were working on dinner and my mind was thinking of… I don’t know, nothing.  And suddenly I was back and about to get into my dad’s Volaré, back as a little kid, little enough that I didn’t have to duck at all to get into the car but on the contrary, lift my leg up high. The car was green and the seats were beige, like either vinyl or leather beige, like a beige gray. My parents were divorced so he’d pick us up on Saturdays and take us for the day. There was always a mini candy waiting for each of us in the Volaré. As adults he had told me once that he had the candy as an incentive for us to get into the car without dilly-dally and also because a part of him would worry we might not want to get in so the candy was insurance.  He didn’t know he didn’t need it but it also worked. And I was back there,  that little kid again. swinging my leg onto the seat to slide into the middle where the candy would wedge itself between seat and seat back. And in the bright light of that morning I could see my legs and my white shoes and he was there and I was there with him and my brothers and it was another amped up Saturday morning and I was glad. I felt a calm in me.  We were where we were supposed to be- a “home” of sorts was Saturday morning.  And then I am back at my cutting board and everything stops. And I can’t believe it and look around at my hands and the knife and the food and the floor of the kitchen and I try to get it back really quick get it back just for a moment please just one more little moment. And I know it’s all come back to me through smell, up my nose to back in time.  From somewhere.  And I just can’t put it back together.  But I’ve had that. In the past and right then. So much to appreciate.  So much to mourn. To be so lucky to have ever had that!  Oh smell…

But how will I find you?

Some time ago, I was teaching at a day camp for 5 year olds.  Our teaching assistant was a young college student.  She was a really great teacher and very sweet with the kids.  We took them swimming every day, offered a wide variety of interesting science and art workshops, and played all sorts of games.  It was so much fun.  One of our campers, a playfully rambunctious yet somewhat reserved boy, really took to the teaching assistant and would plop himself on her lap whenever we got the group together on the floor.  On the last day of camp, kids were casually talking about what they were going to do next.  Some kids had other camps, some had trips, and some were going to spend some time at home.  Plopped on her lap as usual, he suddenly turned her face to him with his hand and urgently asked, “What about you?  What are YOU going to do?”  She lightly said she wasn’t sure, that she was going to travel a bit and maybe spend some time with her family.  He started to explain to her that he wanted to know where she’d be, he wanted to know how he was going to be able to figure out where she was.  “But how will I find you?”   She explained she really didn’t know because she wasn’t sure herself where she was going to be in the next few months.  “I must be able to find you,” he said, “I will tear the world apart to get to you”.