Play-doh

Today I thought I'd let you in on one of the little joys of my week: Johné.

Johné (john-ay) is a 7-year old girl that I mentor for an hour every Tuesday afternoon. And let me tell you, that is the fastest hour of my week. It seems like the moment we get out the play-doh it's time to go. And wow how we both love the play-doh! Seriously, it is the best toy in the box. We make pizzas and faces and worms mostly, but even making the same green and pink pizza every week is fun because that's when we get our talk time. 

Sure, it's nice to be able to teach her to measure or help with multiplication tables, but my favorite time (and hers too I think) is when we can just sit and talk. She has a huge crush on Justin Bieber- even though she tells me her mom thinks he is too old for her- and she swears up and down she is going to his concert. I don't know about that, but I've definitely listened to "Baby Baby" more than once in the last few weeks.

She also loves going to the park and the color pink. And every week, the moment she runs in, she looks at me and tells me she's glad I'm there and never wants to go home. And if you think that is cute (which it really, really is), you haven't seen the pile of notes I have from her. She writes them in secret- by telling me to close my eyes- then makes me wait until she leaves to read them. Though she isn't the best at spelling, they always leave me smiling. 

I will be the first to say I am not good with kids. I am the youngest in my family and except for the 3 months I worked in my church's nursery changing diapers, I've never been around them. I'm also pretty sure if someone more experienced spent time with Johné every week, she might be writing the Constitution from memory- in cursive.But if I've learned anything about kids from her, it's that they don't judge. She didn't choose who became her mentor, and honestly, she would probably love anyone who'd walked in that first day.

But that's just it- it doesn't matter that I'm the one who came or that I don't know what I'm doing. She just wants that time to sit with someone who will listen and not try to be her mother, teacher, or other bossy "grown-up". She needs someone to talk to about how she thinks it's gross when boys eat hot sauce on noodles and how she wishes they put cheese in the chicken nuggets in the cafeteria. She needs someone who will listen to her stories about riding bikes after school until it gets dark and about how her dad always beats her at Mario Kart. 

And really, don't we all need that?

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