I can't say I was thrilled we'd be working with children. I've mentioned before on this blog that I generally don't like children unless they are related to me (and even then, blood is a very tenuous link) or belong to my friends, making them as good as nieces/nephews/little cousins to me.
For one full work day I would be surrounded by children. Not only that, I had to interact with them.
No one would ever mistake me for "Little Miss Perky." I'm as sour as sour goes, normally, and the honey in my voice is only reserved for when I'm trying to get my husband to give me a little extra from our budget to go shopping with. Which is also what alerts him that I want something but then that's par for the course and he's used to it.
Back to the children.
We were expecting older ones. Elementary age, perhaps within the age range of 9 to 12. Imagine the horror when I received a text message telling me we would be dealing with pre-schoolers. Pre-schoolers.
My immediate response was to beg them not to leave me alone with the children. And then I had to revise my entire plan.
I had outlined, mentally, my intended lecture. All of ten minutes with the rest of the time spent for them doing their assigned work. Suddenly I found myself downgrading my lecture to a few sentences and giving them more time to do what they needed to, keeping in mind that the parents might not be as cooperative as the children.