Golly Gosh!

But the Brits put on a jolly fine show, don't they? Have thoroughly enjoyed this opening ceremony... as is my four yearly wont. (The Ger-Man has slept through most of it, and the Caspi-Man passsed out an hour ago.)

A friend had made Pimms n' lemonade and cucumber sandwiches to enhance his watching, but dammed if I was gonna do that. Last time I tried that was to take to a friend's to watch a certain royal wedding and as I was finalising the little triangles on a nice platter, certain cramps could no longer be ignored - and the Cheeky Monkey had joined us before the balcony kiss... it was two days before I saw THE hats!!

Needless to say that the Cheeky Monkey is no longer a baby, in fact, he has become a fully fledged toddler... affording me further excuses to neglect this blog. (I do blog a lot, but it is mostly in my head... probably better that way!)  

Here is a pic from 15 months ago:

Kann Kind... (wish it started with a C)...

So, The Caspi-Man has started school. 

  
  

First School Day

I had been anticipating and dreading this day in equal measure. Anticipating? Because, well, because it is one of life's important milestones, right? Dreading? Because, well, because:


a) it means getting up early and to school ON TIME (by 8am), every single school day. 


b) the end of spontaneously heading off on random adventures and holidays regardless of time of year. 


c) it won't be too long before he starts correcting my German grammar.


d) I will be expected to help him with his homework. In German. (See (c).)


d) many other reasons that I cannot be bothered listing... but suffice to say that (a) alone would be enough.


Here is the Caspi-Man's "first day" snapshot with his Schultüte:

 A german tradition - the Schultüte was historically filled with lollies and trinkets to share with classmates and win new friends.


Every time I see one I'm struck by how much they are like upside down Dunce's caps.


These days, the Schultüte is usually made at Kindergarden, and filled with surprises (& of course, lollies) to unpack at home. The Caspi-Man's included an alarm clock. (Have I mentioned that we have to be at school by 8 am? Every day!) 

My Mother-In-Law,  (aka The Schwierigmutter), was entrusted to take the compulsory family picture at the school gate:

Yep... this would be a typical example of why 

she is also known as the Schwierigmutter!

On day 3 of school,  I was confronted with my first dilemma in the helping of the homework.


The assignment? Bring something from home that starts with the same letter as the first letter of your name. 


Ok... that would be "C" ... let's think...

CARROT? 
No, hang on, that would be K, wouldn't it? 


Ok, how about your rubber CROCODILE? 


Oh, K again. 


CAT? Bugger… 


How about... some CHOCOLATE? Oh, wait ... that's Schokolade – “S”, isn’t it….hmmmm… Chillies! You could take some chillies ... 

"That's a doof (dumb!) idea, mama!"

Drawing a complete blank, and with the Ger-Man away, I needed to consult the German to English translation dictionary (and of course "C" seems to be the shortest chapter).

Aha! Clown!

Bugger, we don't have any clown stuff (because let's face it ... they're slightly creepy). 

And then I got to "Computer" YAHOO! 

"You can take your 'Cars' Computer that Aunty P gave you... that's even 2 'Cs'!" 

"Good idea, Mama!"

The next day, at some ungodly and dark hour (ie before 8 am), we are underway to school  and the Caspi-Man says to me, "Good thing we remembered my LAPTOP, huh, Mama?"

Must learn not to leave him unattended with my computer:

Sat. morning egg-head breakfast.

All photos and some of the creations by The Caspi-Man ...

What WAS he doing on my computer?

Cold rainy days ...

spent home from Kindergarten ... baking biscuits...

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

We've returned from high summer in Oz, to sub-zero temperatures here in Deutschland and the magic of snow... and as I downloaded photos from various apparatus, I was struck by a sudden realisation:

I seem to be raising one of those pretentious twats... The sort that thinks it's completely normal to surf through the summer, snowboard in winter, and who very much intimidated me when I was in my twenties!

So, a few weeks ago ...

a few of the Ger-Man's work colleagues (who were visiting from distant, foreign lands) decided to give the Caspi-Man a present.

A large box - all fancily wrapped.

The Caspi-Man gleefully unwrapped it...

How, um, ... seasonal.

The Caspi-Man LOVED it!

Later that night, when I went in to check that he was indeed asleep, turn off his light, and straighten his covers, I discovered he had managed to drag it into bed with him. It has become his new best friend.

"Ah, better a blow up Santa when you're nearly 5, than a blow up doll when you're 35!" commented a friend. (!!?)

"THAT is NOT coming to Australia." said my Darlink Sister. "Full Stop."

Something (else) I'd never considered in raising a bi-cultural child...

Guess which one of the following options the Caspi-Man believes?

There is a man called Santa Claus who will bring him a present!

There is a man called St Nicholas who will bring him a present!

There is a man called the Weihnachtsman who will bring him a present!

There is a man called Father Christmas who will bring him a present!

There is an entity called the Christkindl who will bring him a present!

There is a man called Kris Kringle who will bring him a present!

ALL OF THE ABOVE EXSIST AND WILL EACH BRING HIM A PRESENT!!!

St Nicholas and The Weihnachtsman, catching up for a chat on German Childrens' Television.

(Presumably ensuring they've got their pressie lists sorted and don't mess up by giving the same child the same gift.)

Full Moon?

Well, we're back from Oz, over the jet-lag and (almost) back into the routine (that we'd never really mastered in the first place).

The Caspi-Man didn't sleep well last night. He hadn't really eaten much of his dinner,and protested loudly when denied copious quantities of 'bedtime' lollies. He declined a 'bed-time' milk, sulked through his bed-time story, and accused me of being a"BAD, BAD MUMMY" in lieu of a bed-time kiss. (The Ger-Man tried to be supportive with all this- in a calm, germanic, pragmatic manner greatly assisted, methinks, by his being in a 5 star hotel in Munich, where presumably, "bed-time" chocolates are provided on the pillow in lieu of lollies.)

Two hours into his slumber time, (& two minutes after I'd slid into a much anticipated, and needed bubble bath), the Caspi-Man woke, and immediately protested very loudly, that he was still hungry. Very HUNGRY!!! STARVING!!!! In fact, "REALLY, REALLY, STAAARVIIING!!!!!!!!!" I resigned myself to leaving the warm, fragrant water, and decided I did not have the strength to present the "Milk or nothing" option I usually reserve for such occasions, and made the Caspi-Man some toast. Toast, of which, he only had the smallest nibble before declaring himself "Very, very full!" and drifting back to dream time. ..IN MY BED.

Two hours later, & a mere two minutes after I'd slid into a much anticipated, and needed dream time state of my own, the Caspi-Man woke,and immediately protested very loudly, that he was still hungry. Very HUNGRY!!! STARVING!!!! In fact, "REALLY, REALLY, STAAARVIIING!!!!!!!!!" I decided I did not have the strength to do anything other than present the "Milk or nothing" option (usually reserved for such occasions) and then spent pretty much all of the next half hour standing (lying???) by my convictions, untill weariness overtook me and I realised my only hope of getting some decent shut eye was to find some contraband child sedative cook the Caspi-Man some pasta and hope that glutenous starches would take their toll.

Sleep prevailed, infact, we even slept in... and had to rush to get to kindergarten on time. (We were somewhat further delayed by the Caspi-Man being hungry before breakfast, a hunger that apparently only lollies could sate, and the Caspi-Man held out, refusing to even entertain any other feasible option, except maybe, pancakes. Being sleep deprived, and weak, I actually agreed to make him pancakes, with maple syrup (ie. liquid lollies) ... he ate two, and then we hastily threw on jackets and hurried to kindergarten, already very late.

Our route takes us past a bakery. A bakery that sells a croissant-shaped, cake type bread called a "Butter Hörnchen".

"I'm hungry." says the Caspi-Man.

"You've just breakfast!" I say.

"But I'm very HUNGRY!!!" says the Caspi-Man. "I'm STARVING!!!!"

"You can eat your Frühstück Brot as soon as you get to Kindy, then." I say, wondering at this point if he needs to be wormed.

"But I'm REALLY, REALLY, STAAARVIIING, for a Butter Hornchen, RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!" screams the Caspi-Man.

"No." I say, quite firmly, while thinking perhaps I WILL worm him...

"YOU ARE A BAD, BAD MAMA!!" screams the Caspi-Man. "Ich HABE GROSS HUNGER!!!!!"
he wails, and there may even be tears, and lots of people are staring at him, and then at me, and I can feel the "Rabenmutter" judement in their eyes. (What sort of person sends their 4 year old, helpless child to Kindergarten hungry??)

Somehow we made it (Butter Hornchen-less) to Kindy, and then, all to soon, it was time to pick him up again.

All seemed okay for the first while. We chatted about his day (and mine) as we walked to the supermarket to do a bit of shopping. Our route took us past the bakery that sells the Butter Hornchens. Today, they even had Butter Hornchens with chocolate-dipped tips.

"I'm hungry." said the Caspi-Man...

One day far off in the future -

the Caspi-Man might be saying: "When I was a child, I had to trudge through snow to get to Kindergarten...."

But right now he's saying: "No Mama, I don't want my gloves on ... I need my hands free to make snowballs that I wanna throw AT YOU!!"

To be honest, I'd choose minus 7, and lasting snow fun anyday, over 5 degrees and sleet...

The Christmas Markets -

in Düsseldorf have officially opened.

And, I'm beginning to sense a recurrent theme:

Christmas 2006:

(Caspi-Man on green tractor)

Christmas 2007:

(Caspi-Man on blue/yellow tractor)

Christmas 2008:
(Caspi-Man on blue/yellow tractor)

To be fair - he also likes the fire-engines and the little areoplane. And, I must admit I quite like the Glühwein stand next door.

No crying over spilt milk, please.

The Caspi-Man wanted "pink milk" as a "bedtime drink".

(It's a Charlie & Lola thing.)

A bit of ice-cream & red food colouring and he was sorted.

But then he wanted Olli to have pink milk too.

He knows that regular milk is not good for Olli. I stood firm - I WOULD NOT be colouring cat milk for Olli. (Once certain lines are crossed - heaven knows where we'll end up.)

So the Caspi-Man decided that he'd share his...

When I told the Caspi-Man that he had to help clean up the mess - this wasn't really what I had in mind:

Kunst

The Caspi-Man likes to draw. And paint. And cut. And stick.

And to be honest, so do I. And we really don't do these things often enough. But, one thing we do seem to be doing quite often is drawing on the computer. Or, rather drawing with the computer. (We're not allowed to draw ON the computer... although this doesn't stop one of us trying...)

Portrait of Olli

Caspi-Man & PJ Mel September 2008

No matter how you dress it up:

The Caspi-Man is becoming quite creative in his methods of avoiding things he doesn't want do.

Such as, say, getting dressed...

Every single morning it is a mammoth struggle to get him out of his pajamas and into his clothes. (Yep. No doubt about it - he is my child. Who knew such things were genetic?)

He very rarely actively participates in the dressing process. Usually he darts around the room, scorns the available options, distracts himself with whatever may be handy (toys, books, most often Olli). Anything to avoid putting his day clothes on. He often asks if he can go to kindergarten in his pjs.

A few days ago, The Ger-Man was attempting the "dressing challenge" when I overheard this exchange:

Frustrated Ger-Man: "WHY CASPI-MAN? WHY? Why won't you just put your clothes on?"

Belligerent Caspi-Man: "Because I can't!"

"And just why can't you?"

"Because I can't hear you!"

"Huh? Why can't you hear me?"

"Because my ears are too small."

(Trying not to laugh) "Sorry, Caspi-Man. That's one problem you definitely don't have."

First Day of Autumn...

And, I've marked the occasion by having my hair dyed red at our local salon. Not the fire-engine red favoured in my mid-twenties - but a bold enough shade none the less. Now, let's see if the Ger-Man notices... ;)

Like most things I'm doing these days - this wasn't planned or scheduled (in fact, strictly speaking getting my hair done had no place at all on today's agenda) but none the less, it happened.

My days are relatively busy at present - a result of several projects with fast approaching (one could say bottlenecking) deadlines - and today, I'd planned to collect the Caspi-Man from Kindergarten and drag him along on a few urgent, project-related errands.

However, on picking him up, I realised HE desperately needed a haircut. In fact, strictly speaking he's needed one for awhile, but I'd sorta been hoping it would move past the "unkempt" stage and morph into some long, floppy "cool" style without any intervention on my behalf- but sadly that hadn't eventuated. He'd just begun to look neglected. So we made a quick detour and ducked into our local salon for what I'd anticipated would be a 10 minute trim.

Technically, it was a 10 minute trim. But, 5 minutes into it, the Caspi-Man's eyes grew heavy. At the 6 minute mark, his head begun to lull. By 7 minutes, I had to hold his head straight for the stylist, as the Caspi-Man had passed into deep slumber. (Jeeeze, I've only had that happen during scalp massages!) At 11 minutes, the cut was finished and we'd moved the Caspi-Man to the salon's couch where he was given a cushion for his head and clean towels as a blanket.

So, you see, I didn't really have a choice. And, if they'd actually had the fire-engine red of my distant youth in stock- I'd have had it.

Smiles for Tuesday...

Polaroid montage created using 'bighugelab'.

(There seems to be no end to the ways I find to waste time - especially when there are so very many things I should be doing...... sigh.)

Mondays are for dancing...

When the idea was first touted, (over afternoon tea in a cafe a few months ago), the Caspi-Man was extremely excited by the idea of doing a dance course with his young friend, Miss H.

Much to the amusement of the waiters (and patrons at nearby tables), he jumped up - grabbed Miss H by the hand and said:

"Yay! Miss H, we're gonna dance! Now, I'll be the man and you be the woman!"

And together they twirled around merrily...

So, now the course is underway.

The Caspi-Man dances on the way to the Tanzhaus.

And he dances on the way home.

(Infact - in an average week the Caspi-Man finds endless opportunities for a random dance.)

But for much of the class (and to spite the teacher's best efforts) he prefers to watch.

Betchya can't guess which one is the Caspi-Man?!

Trainer of Jedi Masters in the making?

Yesterday, we were out for lunch with a group of friends, and at one point the discussion turned to how the Caspi-Man was going with his two "spraches".

"Not bad," I said, and it's true. Luckily, both his languages seem to be developing at a similar rate, and while most conversations contain a bit of Denglish, he does seem to speak primarily in one or the other (depending on context).

"But", I continued, "He seems to be structuring his english sentances in a german gramatical format... & he often likes to whack the verb on the end."

"Ahhh," said a friend. "So he's speaking like Yoda then."

"?................... YES! YES HE IS!"

And they're probably the same hieght.

Not sure though- that the Caspi-Man is (as yet) at one with The Force, and am quite sure, that Yoda doesn't demand ice-cream and lollies for breakfast.

A random question that the Caspi-Man's obviously been pondering:

The Caspi-Man and I were just sitting having dinner together, after a longer than average "looong" day (and that's an euphemism) , when, out of the blue, he piped up with:

"Mama, where do people come from?"

"What do you mean, Caspi-Man, by 'where do people come from'?"

(Ok, I know that's a cop-out -but it really has been a long day...)

"I mean, where do people COME FROM? Do you buy them in a shop?"

"Um, no. Hold on a sec Caspi-man, Mummy just needs to go top up her drink...."

(AAArrgghhh....why does he seem to only ask these things when the Ger-Man's not here? Aren't we both suppose to be scaling these parenting mountains together? And godammit - haven't a dozen responses to that question just popped into my mind -none of which are appropriate to share with the Caspi-Man! )

Wine now in hand, (personally, after the day we've just had - I'm feeling proud it's not the gin or vodka - but I suppose I'm saving those for when the truly challenging questions come....):

"Well, Caspi-Man... people make people."

Of course, inevitably, this begins a long question and answer session, detailing which specific people were made by exactly which specific people in our immediate family/friend/acquaintance network - and then - I managed to craftily distract him with early evening Kinder-TV ( just before he thought of asking HOW people make people).