
and so it's really quite alright.

here's my house (that's my balcony you can't quite see through the trees)


and this spindly character is apila, nearly a month old... 

'do i have blue on my face?' a few of them nodded.
i laughed.
tension broken, they all giggled like schoolchildren.
------------
so, since the fallses missed bun's birthday celebration, and the boyses missed abraham's birthday celebration, we had a teeny little shindig for the two of them on friday...
bun manfully pretended to eat his cake (he doesn't like sweets) until i came and sat by him. i may or may not have eaten his piece on the sly... 
and then max gave me sass about something and so i tickled him until he nearly peed (disclaimer: WAY too much guy-thigh below). 
and now i have to tell you this story, which would be WAY funnier if you knew the kid, but max is the neatly-tucked, clean-fingernails, bed made so tight you could bounce a quarter off the sheets, tidy handwriting (in english AND thai), homework done by friday evening kid. and then sometimes he goes crazy.
so wednesday night, p'ganniga is at her cell group and i have the boys, and it's going on nine and everyone is showered and in their jammies except max. 'max, buddy, you gotta go shower,' i say. casting an impish glance my way, max states, 'i no shower.' 'max, go shower.' giggling now, 'i no shower!' 'that's it'. i get up and snag him, sticking my fingers into his all-too-prominent ribs until he's laughing so hard he can barely breathe.
'there,' i say, 'now go shower.' he darts halfway up the stairs before squatting down and peering at me through the slats...'i no shower!!!' i hear more giggles and the door to the boys' room slam. i haul myself upstairs and crouch outside. hearing no noise, and being unable to endure the uncertainty, max cracks the door, at which point he is set upon by his hefty farang, who is intent on tickling him until she renders him to that state where you're laughing but no noise is coming out. 'ok, ok, i shower, i shower!!!' 'no way, man. you had your chance.' 'i shower! i shower!!!!' 'no dice. you tickle now.' finally, i let him go, and he trails giggles like drops of water all the way to the bathroom.
this is the closest thing i have to a discipline problem.
mornings start early at the abundant life home, especially on baby tiger day...
p'ganniga has to tuck and fold and belt and wrap her entire squadron into crisp, sharply-creased respectability...
since we were at church camp for monday and tuesday, i switched my teaching days to thursday and friday. the english teacher's english ability is (as previously discussed) haphazard at best, and so i didn't know who i'd be teaching until i showed up thursday morning, but there they were, bright and shining in their baby tiger best, my patom 6:1 class (i teach them on monday mornings).
there's twins, and for the longest time i thought there was only one of them and i just saw her a lot(see if you can spot them, it'll be like a where's waldo: crazy thailand escapades! also look for: three hall monitors; the one kid who actually remembered his baby tiger hat; and evidence that they don't wear shoes in the class so the room always smells like feet). that was yesterday.
who, as you can imagine, was no trouble at all. the air con barely worked, the music was blaring and in thai, and the crepe window shade did little to keep out the blazing sun. five hours later, sticky and cramped, we arrived at church camp.
this isn't the best picture, because you can't see the nine on the other side, but until they develop a 3D camera, this is what you get. the scab on top of my foot is evidence that i have no resistance against the itch. that's right, i scratched that hole in my foot. anyway, desperate times call for desperate measures, and thai mosquitoes call for thai repellant...
please note that the rest of our team was similarly sized...
please note the david-and-goliath effect...

we were tromped, 4-0, despite the fact that we threw our tall, blond, farang soccer star into the game about a quarter of the way in, and then didn’t let him sub off. ever.
how do you tell a flock of thai twelve-year-olds that it’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game? you don’t. you just take them home to watch cartoons and let them eat the rest of your pizza.