My domestic help’s grand-kids come over on the weekends to spend time with her. They bound in with their little collection of toys, have a wild time in the back-yard the entire day, and leave by sunset. The day is a raucous one – of laughter, pitter-patter of feet, and sometimes, the kids from the neighbourhood too join them.
They are most curious about my little library, rifling for books with pictures, and, in the process hustling the books off the shelves. You can’t keep kids out from anywhere, especially if they have been told what’s out-of-bounds. Children are curious.
Most often, after they are gone, I find some of my books on the floor with sketch-pen scrawls on the pages. The only things left in their wake are the toys they forget and the explosive silence.