Neng lia
"Oh, your sister will eat your Fried rice."
"Suck it, mommy."
"Oh, yeah, maybe mommy and daddy will come back tomorrow."
"Suck it, mommy."
"Don't forget, your brother has to pay for the day!"
"Suck it, mommy."
"Well, take care of yourself and your sister well. Salam aleikum.
"Wa 'alaykum salam."
Mommy ends the phone across the street.
Outside the window, I saw two of my brothers playing in the sandcastle from where the glass from the bottom of the glass to the top. It was then decorated with flowers and leaves at the top and sides.
My second brother, it turned out, was able to entertain my third brother by taking him out to a simple game because he had been crying to see papi mummy outside the house.
My second sister was eleven. And just last month passed from his country's madrasah ibtidaiyah. My third sister, six years old. And it's the second year in madrasah ibtidaiyah, same country as me.
"Honey, when will daddy be with you?"
Daughter, my father's mother came to the house with my sisters' favorite iced tea.
I approached him in the garden, where I saw him delivering an iced tea with a glass bottle to my brothers. Then my sisters would love to drink it.
"The return of god is tomorrow, mbah."I went straight for the back of his hand to kiss him with tawadlu'.
"You know, tomorrow? Yeah, I'll stay here, then. I can't bear to let these three of you sleep alone without supervision."
"Chant, mother."
"He said, you'll take the test, right?"
"Chant, mbah."
"Test where, asshole?"
"At the madrasah diniah which is in the city of anyar, mbah."
"Even if you test, don't be mad at your students, let alone hit them."
"Chant, mbah."
Last practice of their teaching
first class
on the sixth-grade teacher exam at the diniah hall. I'm sure the kids I taught at that time are already up to the second grade and I'm either going to teach their class or I'm not. The truth is that I miss being with people when I teach no one to be so fussy.
"By the end of the day, you should come here. Your aunt's not home anymore, sis."
"Chant, mbah."
Although still teaching tests, I believe my teaching scores will improve and that if I pass this teaching test it will certainly be able to be a teacher here at the madrasah here.
Night before bed yesterday, one of diniah's staff began to inform me that this afternoon was my time for tests.Actually, the time was scheduled before the holiday was completed. However, the schedule had some changes. To that end, there was a staff member of the madrasah's office who was assigned the duty of reorganizing the schedule for those of us who would be taking the teaching test. And to remind you that one day we would be teaching.
Yesterday was also a reminder, for this teaching test. It was suggested to use the clean Muslim busan rather than the uniforms made for students at the madrasah diniah.
"Oh!"
"Deck, lily-meal. Fried rice is ready!"
I was in the kitchen.
After I packed the two of them dishes, I finished the kitchen with all the leftover dishes piling up and the juiced-up glasses of juice this morning.
"Yes, neng."
After I do the dishes, I'll probably be working on my novel halfway through. Actually, my novel might as well take a quick look at it. But the story that will not be so interesting, can make the reader lazy. I should take care of my novel's quality as carefully as possible.
"Neng, no eggs?"
My sister is number two, the comment about the Fried rice I just made.
"Nothing, sister."
I could have bought some eggs in the warbler, but I was afraid they were starving. And I'm not gonna let that happen.
"I don't want to eat, neng. I want a sunny-side-up!"I breathed heavily and stopped tidying the glasses and plates on the kitchen table. Then went over to my sister to convince her to eat.
"Would you like a beating, brother?"
"No way, neng." he answered with a no.
"I told you earlier mommy, you had Fried rice You'll be taller soon. You don't want it, deck?"
"Yes, neng."
***
Gus iqbal
Is this ruai?
My bike is parked to the right side of the warranty. Then I unpacked my keys, looking at the pulsing broom in front of the no-storefront lawn.
On the outside, they were like walls of bright yellow crystals that fazed them. Yeah, it looks like a crystal light shining in the seawater.
Last time, this room wasn't this tight. The doors were never closed and there was actually no door in the year I came to ruai for the first time.
Rubles that had once been exposed to a gazebo hut with a roof similar to that of old grass fibers attached to them now evolved into closed rooms with minimalist doors and Windows with transparent curtains.No matter when the ruai is being restructured by Mr. Arief, at least this design might make the charm of extracurricular interested people
