Marina

reclining on the kitchen table

Marina is the middle child, with her sisters two years either side of her.  At four years old, she is a bright and talkative girl who, although fast gaining in independence, is still literally and metaphorically spoon-fed by Toñi and her parents.  Her difficulty in finishing a meal under her own steam is considered normal, yet she is allowed considerable liberty in the flat to do virtually anything that takes her fancy.  She has long grasped this idea, and confronted my early attempts to impose a bit of order with raging indignation.  Everyone, she claimed, had always let her do everything anywhere and however she wanted.  Why should it be any different with me?

Despite a few initial conflicts, Marina and I soon got along like the proverbial house on fire. She is quite the energetic type and is always keen to play a game, draw a picture or simply be carried on my back.  As you can see, Marina is both the easiest girl the look after and, physically at least, the most tiring.  However, apart from enjoying a variety of distractions, Marina can also be said to talk a good game.  Indeed, Marina didn’t take very long to reveal herself to me as the talkative one of the three girls.  Being Spanish, she tends to be talkative at a quite unnecessary volume, deafening me with her not-quite-whispered secrets.  Nevertheless, one can only be charmed by her earnest explanations of the world, and she regales me every day with new theories on life, the universe, and everything.

Although she has a surprisingly good understanding of many things, she still seems to have difficulty with the concept of not always getting exactly what she wants right there and now, mentioned above.   I generalised this finding, along with the observation of similar traits in her sisters and friends, into an outrageous theory that this is a Spanish kid characteristic.  It is completely baffling: every time something goes wrong or at least not as the poor niño or niña had hoped, tantrums and cutlery are thrown all over Madrid in massive outpourings of juvenile anger.  Perhaps my memory deceives me, or maybe I have joined the old codger ranks a little early, but I simply cannot recall anything comparable going on in my day.  I fully intend to investigate further on this curious phenomenon.

Marina, in short, is a great kid to look after as long as you do exactly what she wants.  With experience, I soon realised that this could be translated into making her want whatever you are doing.  It is by no means an easy task, but most certainly a worthwhile one.  Indeed, a Marina tantrum, as suggested in my previous paragraph, is a sight to behold, and an experience any au pair would want to avoid as much as possible.  Falling abjectly to the floor, her sweet little face contorted with despair and rage, she screams her discontent to the world, flailing arms and legs in a kind of breakdance gone horribly wrong.  Basically, this is every au pair’s worst nightmare.  Especially when it happens in the middle of a busy street, on the way home from school, all because I miserably failed to buckle her coat into a proper superhero cape.  Believe me.

Although generally heavily influenced by her older sister Cecilia, she has recently developed a somewhat rebellious streak.  This provides regular frustration for Cecilia, who simply has not the arsenal to face up to Marina’s amazing stubbornness.  All in all, Marina can be the best of the girls and the worst of the girls.  Affectionate and admiring one minute, screaming and stubborn the next.  Drawing me a princess before tossing her tortilla at me.  Hugging me, and a minute later screaming blue murder and clawing at my legs for no apparent reason.  It’s an au pair’s life.