She Laughs at the Days

Dear Pax, You are perfect! You are everything a little boy should be. You are strong and agile. You climb and jump and ride your little push bike all over the place. You use swords and guns and make little explosion sounds with with your mouth while dramatically dropping into a fighting stance. "Pshshsh!" It's the best thing ever. You are big enough to play with your older brothers, and have a lot of fun. But sometimes you do that thing that toddlers do, where you try to claim everything as your own, shouting, "Mieeene!" When you do this the fun is killed for everyone as you cry and scream and your older siblings, frustrated with trying to distract you, or trade you another toy, or get you to play together, start to yell and scream too. But you are far more social than your oldest siblings were at your age. You love to have playmates. You want people to run around, and play cars with. You also love babies. You run up to babies in public making s

They come to my door sometimes, always unannounced, and always with some inexpensive sugary drink or snack to give to me, the hostess, as is proper Asian custom. A blurry photo I snapped during one of those visits. We sit down, usually on the floor. They're more comfortable there. I pour the sickeningly sweet orange liquid into glasses, comment on how much bigger their babies have grown, and they tell me they need a job. Can I give them a job? These women have babies, children to feed, elderly parents to care for, and they are asking to work, not a for a handout, but for work. They are hoping I will say I need a house helper, someone to come and clean and wash laundry for me, for pay. "I already have 3 house helpers," I tell them. "I don't need anyone else." "What skills do you have?" Most of them say, "I don't have any." One answered, "I can clean house, take care of children, and cook Burmese food." I w