Oster Werken

I know I already said this, but I'm seriously anticipating Mother's Day this year. The kids haven't slacked at all in their preparations.  They're been secretly saving their allowances and buying me the sweetest, stickiest gummy candy that the train depot has to offer.  (If I play my cards right, I might even hope for one of the really, really long gummy snakes!) Ella woke up this morning and began work on a book for me: from what she's whispered to Alex, it sounds like it's going to be an epic story of adventure and derring-do and glory. And the artwork: it just doesn't stop.

The stage for my puppet show

And, showing a naissent sense of irony that I absolutely adore, Ella turned my defeated stroller from yesterday into a "Mother's Day Throne."  So excellent!

Although we'll be in Paris for Easter this year (for I hear Paris in the springtime is lovely), I didn't want the kids to miss out on all of the fun of eggs and bunnies and baskets, even at the risk of diverting their attention from my special day. I've peered curiously into the art room of our community center many times: this week they're hosting open-workshop hours for Easter crafts, so I was happily looking forward to going there and seeing what all they have to offer.

In Seattle, whenever we visited a children's museum, the kids would inevitably end up in the art room for most of the visit, happily making about 20 pounds of kid art--you know, globbily painted toilet paper tubes and string and shiny bits of metal precariously attached by colored masking tape--that I would lug home, display, and then, in the darkest hours of the night, quietly throw away.

Mr. Hooper, here, still loves his little store.

But before we had a morning to bide before we went to the art room: we were all pretty exhausted from yesterday, so Ella and Alex got to spend a lot of time playing their most favorite computer game (which, I long ago concluded, is basically World of Warcraft for 8-year-old girls).  And we puttered around the house and painted more cakes and pies for the kids' little play bakery.

Oh, and Joey took a three-hour-long nap. Nice!

But too much time indoors, and, especially, on the computer, of course takes a toll on the kids' tempers.  The kids started battling when Ella was "helping" Alex with his game. A frustrated outburst from Alex and a few pushes back and forth landed them both on the couch, glaring at one another, facing off.  Just to see what would happen, I told them I wouldn't let them leave the couch until each of them said five nice things about the other, and I told Ella she'd have to start.

"I like Alex because he can only read babyish books, so he doesn't touch my books."

Great, Ella.  I'll come back to you.

But Alex, my peace-loving child, played my game. He paused for a little while, thinking hard, which enraged Ella ("You shouldn't have to think so hard to come up with a reason why I'm nice! Hmph!") but what he said widened her eyes: "I like Ella because she is really brave.  I know that school is really hard for her because they make her speak German, but she doesn't complain too much about it, and usually when she comes home she's really cheerful."

Ella was suddenly reminded that her brother, more than anyone else, is on her side and understands her completely.  And her heart melted.

"I love Alex because he almost always tries to avoid fights. He really tries to make everyone happy."

"I love Ella because she tries really hard to make up fun games for me and Joey."

"I love Alex because he always goes along with my games, even when I can tell he doesn't want to."

"I love Ella because she makes up really good stories for me, and sometimes she reads to me."

"I love Alex because he's really good at sports and he's an amazing scooter-rider...."

When they were done, they just sat there, smiling at each other, until Ella turned to me and said, "You know, mom, the only reason Alex and I fight is because we're exactly the same.  We bother each other because we're so similar, and because we like the same things, so we fight over those things." That's a bit of self-awareness that I didn't expect Ella to have, just yet.

So the kids were doing better by the time our friends joined us to head up to the community center, where they all three proved just how similar they are.  Three pairs of eyes had an identical gleam when they saw the layout of the room.  "Mom, I want to do everything!" Ella chirped.  "Me too!" called out Alex.  And Joey wasn't far behind: "Me too!"

But that turned out to be an expensive proposition. I've found that art supplies are really costly here in Switzerland, and so I was hoping that I might find some subsidy for my kids' creative urges at the community center.  But they were charging, and dearly, by the project.  Each egg cost two francs (or, roughly, two dollars) to decorate.  Of course, at the grocery store, eggs cost about 75 cents each, so perhaps two francs is a fair price.
















I'd never seen the technique they used, though. The eggs were pre-dyed, and they gave the kids little cups of lemon juice and a tooth pick.  The lemon juice bleached away the dye, leaving little white dots or lines wherever the kids drew. Kind of neat.  They also had puffy paints for the eggs, which Alex and Joey preferred.  Alex decorated his $2 egg with about ten carefully-placed dabs of puffy paint. And Joey smeared the paint everywhere: his hands, his clothes, his cheek.  It kept them busy for a long, long time, though, so I suppose it was money well spent.  The kids spent even longer decorating little Easter baskets.  Poor Joey, I wouldn't spring for the four francs so that he could make a basket, but he was just as happy surgically snipping away at a piece of paper and then taping it back together.  The kids seemed to love this part best.


But my favorite was the bread baking.   They gave the kids lumps of dough to shape into whatever shape they wanted, and they had raisins and salt to use for pre-baking decoration, or, otherwise, icing and candy to decorate with after baking. 

I think, really, the kids were supposed to make bunny-shaped breads.  But Alex wanted to make a basket out of his bread, and Ella, after much deliberation, decided that she was going to make a little girl.  (And here, my German skills almost failed me.  I had the hardest time convincing the art-room supervisor not to slice Ella's little bread girl's head into two, giving her bunny ears.)

Joey had no problem deciding what to make out of his dough: "I want dinosaur! Rawr!"  And one with raisin polka-dots, at that. Funnily, when I asked Joey, that evening, to tell his daddy what animal he made from bread, he played to his audience: "Monkey! A monkey!"  Of course, he'd already eaten the evidence, so I had no way of proving that he hadn't, in fact, made his daddy's favorite animal. Except, of course, for my photo, but, with my art skills, that could just as easily be a polka-dot monkey, couldn't it.

Although that was it for the kids, lucky me, my day didn't end there.  I got to go out for flammenküche and conversation with some really lovely girls this evening. Thanks again, Dennis!

Products of a busy day