First, please don’t expect them to be anything but clumsy.
Don’t expect them not to break things – things, especially, which you especially don’t want them to break.
Don’t expect them not to be as loud as they can possibly be.
Don’t expect yourself to escape breaking.
Don’t expect quietness of what you probably don’t call soul.
Don’t expect please or thank you, even though you must constantly insist upon please and thank you.
Don’t expect them to love you as you love them.
Don’t expect them to understand you or even to try to understand you until you are dead.
Don’t expect them, as children, to be interested in you, as you were as a child.
In fact, don’t expect them to believe in your existence until you are dead.
Expect painful joys and hilarious wounds.
Expect strangers who do not know our ways here.
Expect to be wrong.
Expect their deaths, and hope to be wrong.