Of the many things I've learned so far in Russia, probably the most practical lessons have been (inadvertently) taught by my 6-year-old host sister, Nastya. And not all of them have to do with language, or even Russian culture.
For example: growing up with a sister who is only 2 years younger than I am, I never really had the experience of someone constantly coming into my room asking "Whatcha doin'?" and not leaving even after I'd answered. As a fairly common theme in teen movies is the unwanted younger sibling getting in the way, I was, of course, aware that this happened to others, but it's not until recently that I fully appreciated what it meant.
In an effort to not be anti-social, I usually leave the door to my room open. This was fine when it was just my host mom and me living here while the other two were on their spa vacation (I'm really still unclear on what they did there--it wasn't that far away, so I don't know why they were away for 3 weeks), but now that Nastya has returned, the open door has taken on a whole new meaning.
As people who have had extended interactions with young children know, they aren't always comprehensible even when you're fluent in the language they're speaking. Something to do with youthful lisps and mispronounciations, I'm sure. In any case, while adults may know that kids are hard to understand, the kids themselves are rarely aware that someone who isn't their mother may have difficulty parsing their words. And Nastya is especially unforgiving if it takes me a minute to understand her excited babbling. The other day, when I returned home, she came running up spouting a fountain of energetic Russian at me. Actually, it was the day I went to the opera and had about an hour and a half to change, eat, and be on my way (aka I was NOT focusing on what she was saying). Anyway, Nastya ended her chatter with "Мы печем пиццу" [We're baking pizza].
As frazzled and distracted as I was, it took me a minute to digest her monologue. Apparently I took too long, as she repeated the phrase. Met once more with my blank stare (or perhaps furrowed brow as I tried to figure it out), Nastya yelled into the other room "Мама! Саша не знает, что такое пицца!" [Mom! Sasha doesn't know what pizza is!] To which, I of course responded "No, I know what pizza is!" I was going to explain that she'd just been talking too fast, but she was already bored of the conversation and returned to watching TV in the other room.
A brief explanation of my confusion: I had only just learned the verb "to bake" [печь] a few days before this, and it had only been taught in the context of blini. Thus, when Nastya used it describing pizza, it took me a moment to remember. Also, with the lisp she tends to get when excited, "pizza" was a nearly unrecognizable word.
More common examples of Nastya entering my room are when I'm on my computer and she comes in saying the Russian equivalent of "Whatcha doin'?" and doesn't leave. She's fascinated by everything I do, which is really sweet, but at the same time, it's not like I really do anything worthy of interest. I'm usually checking email, doing a crossword, looking at facebook, or reading a book or article online. All these activities are in English, by the way, which Nastya does not read, despite her assertions to the contrary. On the one hand, I'm glad that her reading over my shoulder is limited to her trying to identify individual letters, but on the other hand, if she could actually read English, she wouldn't ask me every few seconds "What's that letter?" or, more commonly, point to a key on the keyboard and ask if she's reading it right (which can actually be a challenge as I have cyrillic stickers on most keys thus each one has two letters--latin and cyrillic).
In summary, the most important things I've learned so far are: patience with myself even when others are impatient or make fun of me; and patience with young kids. If I ignore her for long enough, Nastya gets bored and runs out, usually with a toy of some kind in hand.
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