doom: child

There are four little kids in my house. Ndeye Awa is the oldest at seven years old, and she is a lot all at once—sassy and loud, always needing to be in the spotlight, always demanding to play, prancing around, dancing and posing and smirking in front of the mirror.

Mafanta is three, and named after my yaay (mother), her grandmother. She never stops talking!

Next comes Ndeye Fatou, two years old, often called “Tatou.” She is incredibly chubby, with fat baby thighs and a round, big belly, that you can’t help but give her a squeeze! She idolizes Mafanta, and runs around the house calling, “Tantan!” after her.

Lastly, little Fatima, one and a half years old. For the first three weeks she bawled whenever she saw me, apparently terrified of my non-Senegalese appearance. But I gave her candy a few times, and I won her over!

For the most part, I love hanging out with these little babies. But sometimes, they all start crying at once—and then I think I never want to live in a house with four little kids ever again.


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