Okay, for those of you who know me, this one is kinda obvious.
I love my primary class.
They are hilarious, and smart, and funny, and sweet.
And I learn a lot.
Sometimes they can get out of hand. Sometimes at the end of my lessons there are paper airplanes all over the floor and I swear they don't remember a word I said.
But I can't help adoring them. Especially when one sweet girl runs over to hug me after primary and tells me she can't wait to see me again. Or when one little boy looks earnestly into my eyes and tells me he wishes he could be "a Shamu." Or when they want to sit by me, and touch my jewelry, and hold my binder for me.
Seven-year-olds are the greatest things to ever happen to me.
I love them more than I love almond kisses and chocolate ice cream and berry pie and cookie dough.
...which is a lot.
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