In case you had any lofty thoughts about the nature of missionary kids, allow me to gently restore you. My children's sinful/imperfect natures somehow slithered into their carry-ons on the trip over, and British Airways didn't charge me a thing. (I bet they'd give you the same discount!)
Exhibit A: Missionary kids throw fits, as displayed by child #4 in thrilling colors this morning. eMi, next door to us, is no longer under any pretense that said child possesses a form of self-control. Someone in this house needs a nap! (And so does the kid who threw the fit, actually.)
Exhibit B: Actual quote to one of my sons approximately two hours later: "When I take your finger out of your nose, this does not mean 'Please use your other hand.'"
Exhibit C: Question posed from my husband: "So who can tell me the first and greatest commandment?" Son pipes up excitedly, "GEORGE WASHINGTON!"
So when you see my children on home assignment--have no fear: I am not raising Super Children. Take a deep breath. Uh, unless one of them is laughing and waving his hand in front of his nostrils.