We went to see the little monks, or as Poo calls them "the little monsters", on Day 13 of their 15-day retreat. Of the 10 or 12 that started, only 5 were left. Waking up at 03:00 for chanting and meditation doesn't sit well with some 10-year-olds, but Thun is hanging in there.
When I travel to these wats (Buddhist temples) in rural Thailand, I always try to remain silent. I think it is a proper way to behave, and besides, if I talk I get peppered with annoying questions, which always turn into a good laugh at my expense.
Thun is way-too-skinny and covered with bug bites. A little bit of stubble is starting to sprout up where his eyebrows used to be, and he has a scab on his lower lip.
"What happened to your lip?" asked Poo.
"I was playing with fire when I was supposed to blow out the candles."
"Did the monk hit you?' asked Poo.
"No," laughed Thun.
Poo frowned; to her, playing with fire deserves a good smack.
I broke my silence with one word: "Good!"
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