Someone likes me.

Little Tomek.


As I write my last post on foreign soil, little Tomek is sitting here in the computer room. I know he is here because I am in here. Somehow he is always near me. When I am sitting and watching television, so is he. When we are eating, he makes faces and gestures and is checking to see if I am noticing them. When I went upstairs to pack, he was sitting outside of my door, playing on the top of the stairs. Usually I find him looking at me curiously, but sometimes he will try to say something to me, but he speaks so fast that I can barely understand a word he says.

Oh, Tomek. He badly needs a haircut. He has constant bedhead. These hairs on the top on his head stick up an inch taller than the rest. He is constantly being yelled at by his parents. He cannot sit still, always shifting chairs, touching things he isn't supposed to, crawling around the floor under furniture. Today, his dad Roman, brother Slawek, Tomek and I drove to this lake to go on a walk, and the kid forgot his jacket. He said it was in the trunk, but it wasn't. He had to wait in the car.

Yesterday, his parents took out of his homework assignments, which was to write who Paul and Peter were. He wrote "Paul and Peter is a deli near my house. They sell good bread and gowamki." He got a bad grade, but his parents thought it was hysterical.

I thought he was 9 or 10. He is 12.

He is so endearing and funny, but I look at him and think, "You're hopeless Charlie Brown. Completely hopeless."

I am sure that the next time I will see him, he will be tall and all grown up, all the spunk and childishness gone away. Probably more like his older brother, Slawek, who tells jokes and rolls his eyes at his parents. So I am glad that I got to capture this snapshot of him. Little Tomek.


Enjoying the fire.



Slawek and Roman, on our walk. Tomek waits in the car.