I see you.
I see you.
Our little princess requested that we took a different route while going home from the Supermarket.
Her father then decided to drive around the street where some of the Syrian families (refugees) are living in at the moment. (A stone throw away from our street).
We passed by the buildig and saw security guards, children on their bikes, a reception with a receptionist and a room that looks like a classroom.
We slowed down and it was indeed a classroom.
The City Hall converted one of the flats to serve as classroom for the Syrian children.
“Can I also attend school here, Papa?”, asked our 4-year old.
“No sweetpea. You have your own school and your own class and your friends.”, replied the father.
“For whom is that classroom then?”
“Those are for the refugees.”, her father continued.
And just what I was thinking, she asked, “What are refugees?”
“Refugees are people who ran away from the war.”, I explained.
“What is war?”, she asked.
“People fighting other people.”, Papa explained.
“Just like you and Mama?”, she immediately said looking innocent.
I looked at my husband via the frontview mirror. He also was looking at me.
“Mama and Papa do not fight baby. Do we fight?”, I said looking at her directly.
“Soms..” (“Sometimes..”), she said looking sad.
We always made it a point not to fight infront of her (or as my husband pointed out – discuss things). Sometimes, though, emotions surge and voices rise.
Most of the time, the “discussions” involve her.
Tiptoe with caution. Children knows.