There's Just Something About My Job

There's something excrutiatingly frustrating about trying to talk to a little deaf girl who doesn't speak much more sign language than you do. Which isn't a lot.

There's something wonderful about the thrill you get when she understands what you're saying and you realize she's finally learned the word you were trying to teach her.

There's something strangely heartwarming about the feeling of a little hand in both of your larger, stronger ones.

There's something of perfection in holding a little boy in your lap, after he's crawled there himself.

There's something supremely exhausting about carrying said little boy on your back for "horse rides." Especially when he wants you to jump.

There's something peculiarly un-awkward in explaining to the other children at the park that the little girl is deaf, and then teaching them how to say a few words to her in sign language.

There's something a little daunting about leaving for work every day at 5:15 in the morning. (Edit: There's something about the sunrise this morning that made it pretty much worthwhile.)

There's something completely peaceful about blowing bubbles and watching two little kids try to chase them before they get away.

There's something nervewracking about watching a mother scream obsenities at her child, even though you both know she can't hear it.

There's something awful about having to search through the stacks of hundreds of horror movies to find the ten or so movies halfway suitable for children, only to have the little boy ask for "Dawn of the Dead" anyway.

There's something heartwrenching in the fact that every time we play, he ends up brutally murdering someone either by decapitation, stabbing, or dismemberment. He's eight years old.

There's something totally reasonable in believing that the above behavior simply stems from the lack of movies that don't feature bloodied corpses terrorizing the populace...

...And yet there's something in you that says there's something else going on.

There's something terrifying in suspecting that something's wrong in a child's home and not being able to do anything about it.

I love my job.

I hate my job.