My ongoing battle with declensions

The temperature finally peaked at above 90 degrees today; when Joey and I left to go shopping this morning, it was already well over 80.  That was just fine while we were at the heavily air-conditioned grocery store, but, when it was time to go home, Joey and I found ourselves in a spot of trouble.

The good old days

I'd agreed to let him ride his scooter on the way to the store; at the time, I wasn't really thinking about how much a trip to the grocery store takes it out of Joey.  All those escalators to ride a half-dozen times, and all those aisles to run up and down, and all those cartons of juice and cookies to surreptitiously heft into the shopping cart. Joey works hard at Migros.

But mom, I'm tired.

So, when it was time to go home, Joey had exactly zero enthusiasm for the trip.  He tried to talk me into letting him ride in the shopping cart, which surprised me, since we hadn't done that for about five months. But my cart was full to the brim, so no dice. I tried pushing him on his scooter with one hand while I lugged all the groceries with the other, but Joey soon shrugged me off: "Don't like that."  Finally he heaved a sigh, fished a box of ice cream out of the shopping bag to carry (to himself cool off??), and trudged five feet down the street. And then he stopped, and looked around, and thought about things, hugging his ice cream bars. And, thus, we settled into our half-mile-an-hour pace.

Fine. I'll do it. But I won't like it.

 Of course, he broke into an excited run as soon as he spotted our apartment building.  He was there before I, shaking the front door, singing "Let me i-i-in! I Ho-o-o-ome!  Mo-o-o-omy! Co-o-o-ome!

I'd been toying with taking a trip to the pool, but given Joey's energy level, it seemed we were in for a nap, instead.  All though I never did convince him to sleep; instead we watched the rest of the neighborhood parade past our window with their towels and floaties. Ah well, it was probably too crowded, anyway. And, while at home, Joey learned the joys of warbling into an oscillating fan.

Right after lunch, Dennis and I traded places, he with the kids, and I off to Google for my German class. I stopped going a few weeks ago, having become too frustrated with my instructor's teaching style. I think I was in over my head, too: language placement is one situation in which having a knack for standardized tests is no advantage.

So I requested that they move me down a level, and I started again today.  My teacher this time, Ralf, is the polar opposite of my former instructor.  He laughs excessively and loves a joke.  But, in ways, he's so much more strict, offering absolutely no wiggle room when it comes to declensions. When it became clear that I'm a little foggier than I should be on noun genders, he handed me a four-inch stack of post-it notes and told me to go home and label everything.  And, as I struggled through dative and accusative cases, he gave me little help, just shaking his head until I finally stumbled onto the right article.  At which point I was rewarded with an ear-splitting smile and a thumbs-up...and a new sentence to wade through.


But I really did enjoy the class, and I came out of it with new resolve. So, when I got home, the kids and I all curled up at the table: Ella with her math, Alex with a first-reader, me with my grammar, and Joey with a pop-up book.

And, while we worked, we rewarded our good intentions with some previously melted, but now refrozen and perfectly fine, ice cream pops.