Our Fine Arts

A few days ago I wrote about how easily Ella's been getting along in school lately, and how nice it is that she hasn't been having to do any of those pesky Joker assignments lately.  Well, I spoke too soon.

Ella came home shamefaced: "Mom, please don't be mad at me for this. I'm mad enough at myself, and I disappointed Herr Fredrick, and I think I'm suffering enough...I got in trouble today."

I nodded, and stayed quiet, and waited for her to continue.

"Well, so today during my German lesson, I was humming to myself, and Herr Frederick told me to stop, and I tried to, but I didn't realize I was still humming, so he gave me a punishment assignment. So I had to write this sentence twenty times. But then I guess I still didn't realize I was still humming, but I did, and so Herr Frederick told me to stop again and gave me twenty more sentences. He didn't get yell at me, but he gave me the evil eye...and the assignment."

So I'm afraid that was Ella's afternoon, writing, forty times, "Während der Lektion störe ich niemanden."

"During the lesson I will disturb no one."

Honestly, this is the first time Ella's had to do lines when I actually understand where the teacher is coming from, and I'm kind of surprised that she hasn't gotten in trouble for this before.  Ella is constantly (but unconsciously) chirping, or humming, or bellowing operatically (often when I'm trying to put the boys to sleep).   I assumed she did this in school as well as home, and I was wondering how long she would get away with it.

But, although I understand why Herr Frederick gave her the assignment, when all was said and done it took her about an hour to finish those lines.  Harsh.  Of course, she amused herself by singing all the while.

This afternoon she was singing Fiddler on the Roof, but I'm wondering how long before she switches to anti-establishment protest ballads.

                                                                                                         

Backpacks, as I've mentioned, are a serious business in Switzerland.  In first grade, most kids get their first $200+ Thek, a boxy, heavy backpack that is often the same size as the first-grader. But before then, kindergartners are expected to have special miniscule bags.  When we first moved here, I sent Alex to school with a normal-sized messenger bag; his teacher sent him back to me with a little second-hand backpack, a tiny one, that she said she'd give him: "This is appropriate for school. The other one, it is too big."

The zipper on that pack finally broke, so Dennis took Alex shopping for a new one. The result: Alex now has, by far, the nicest backpack of anyone in the family.  It's a miniature hiker's pack, with little straps that fasten across his chest, and a little rain sheath that tucks into an upper pocket.  Dennis says they had a huge rack of Kindergarden-specific packs, and this was about the simplest.

It's okay, though, because Alex needs a fine bag to transport home his treasures each day.  His teacher apparently has a corner of the room dedicated to making things out of recycled trash, which is by far Alex's favorite activity, ever.  His backpack is always bursting with his creations, which he calls "my special things." And they are, indeed, special.

Every day he comes home escorted by some of the girls in his class: Penelope, and Nora, and Aliena. This afternoon watched him pulling petals off a daisy, saying "She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me..." I asked him who he was thinking about, and Alex got a dreamy look. "Nora. She's so nice and so funny."

Alex parts with his friends in front of our house, calling "Ciao! Tschüs! Ciao!" and he then hurdles over our balcony, with paper tubes and bits of string and tin cans cascading in his wake.

And then he gathers everything up and shows it all to me: "This is a rocket. And a race track. And a potion bottle. And a treasure chest. And another treasure chest. And another treasure chest." (Fair enough...we have a lot of treasure in our house) "And a parachute. And a cup-and-ball. And a drum..."

By now I think we have most of Frau Ziegler's recycling bin carefully lined up next to Alex's bed. I'm wondering just how many of these special things are going to end up sealed in bubble wrap for our trip home to Washington.

                                                                                                         

Joey was bored this afternoon: both Ella and Alex have school all day on Monday, and Joey was tired of my company.  He indicated this by wandering around the room, chanting "I miss E-e-e-ella, I miss A-a-a-alex, I miss E-e-e-lla, I miss A-a-a-lex." This is is actually unusual for him: lately, he's been a real momma's boy, to everyone's frustration.  He's constantly pushing away Dennis, demanding that I, and I alone, put on his pajamas or read him his story or play with his cars.  If I try to make myself scarce, he starts to moan "I want Yoooooou!"

I've started breaking into my best Lennon impression (which, admittedly, isn't very good) whenever he does this: "I want you so ba-a-a-ad, babe!" I find myself amusing; Joey may not agree.

All this of course bothers Dennis, and even the other kids are getting a little miffed by Joey's snubs.  At one point Ella complained, "Joey has to learn to go to someone else. He needs to understand that Mom is only, like, one of a thousand people."

Sniff...and I thought I was one in a million.

Anyway, since Joey was lonesome, I decided to distract him with some coloring. It occurred to me that I'd never really encouraged Joey to draw pictures, so asked him if he could draw something for me.  He looked at his paper, selected a marker, and drew me this.

"I draw hot dog."

And then he drew me another hot dog, and then another and another.

Hm. Yes. Very nice.

I asked him if he could draw me a face. "No, you do it, mommy. You draw a face." So I suggested we each draw one. I drew a simple happy face, which Joey looked at for a moment. And then he drew this face of his own:

And then he studied his work: "I think his face not so happy. He has worried face."

I asked Joey if he wanted to draw an animal. He immediately drew that toddler favorite, a snake:

"Drawing number 3"

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he could draw me a boa constrictor digesting an elephant, but I controlled myself, and instead asked him what he wanted to draw next. "Hmmm...How about...a lion? You draw me a lion, momma?" So I did, and Joey tried to copy me:

"I did it! I draw lion! Look, he's a funny lion! Look, he's dirty! I draw a dirty lion!"

For his last picture, Joey decided he wanted to draw a fish.  Except his fish ended up being kind of elongated.  He stared his picture, frowning, until his face brightened with understanding: "Look! He doesn't want to be a fish...he's a seal! A silly seal!"

He decided that it was perfectly all right if his fish wanted to be a seal, and honored its choice by gifting it with a purple ball.