“The kid doesn’t like pants. I don’t blame him, but I also
don’t want him jumping on my bed.” He wondered how he could gently translate
this into Kyrgyz. It would be good language practice. He would also prevent the
contamination of his bed sheets. “BAS!” His two year-old brother clutching to a
pen and two of his fingers squeezed and let the full weight of his body pull
him back and towards the playroom. He drew pictures of horses and donkeys and
camels and mice and wolves and people – and they all looked the same, with a
body, two eyes and some legs – which, he had to concede; they all did have in
common. The pantsless boy drew them on a magna-doodle, laughing at each one
before a quick swipe drained their print from the magic screen.
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