I don't want to share my toys anymore

Every time my friend I and I go to this one park in Zurich with our kids, one of our plastic sand toys manages to disappear. Even with our kids’ names written on them. Another child will carry one away and it somehow makes its way into another stroller or diaper bag.

Now, I realize that we all have IKEA sand toys around here. And yellow IKEA kitchen funnels. And all other things plastic from IKEA. But, c’mon. Don’t steal our toys. Don’t let your kid walk off with another child’s toy. I want to be able to loan kids toys at the park. I think it makes for a nice sense of community, especially if you’ve just stumbled on this great new spot with the water fountain and your kids would loooooove to play in it. I’m a big supporter of magical, surprise moments like that, for my kid and yours.

Just stop taking our toys home, ok?

It happened again yesterday (I’m going to start bringing Tupperware containers instead), but otherwise we had a lovely time at the park. The water feature was on, the kids stripped down to diapers and less, and loads of cute little toddler butts were braving the freezing water to splash and pour and play. And once in a while, pee.

Water play is such a big thing for kids. Baby A loves baths, splashing with buckets and cups and the baby pool on the balcony, fountains, sinks. You name it, if there is liquid, she’ll play (down to the water in her bottle at breakfast or the cup of milk on the table). Do they gain intuition from it? Is it just fun and then they have to stop playing at some point? Is it an integral part of the conservation of volume understanding? Is it just this crazy substance that you can touch but not grab?

It makes you buoyant. It slips through your fingers. It helps you slide across a rubber mat on the lawn. It makes dry bread easier to swallow. Plants need it to grow. You float in it as an embryo. Dogs love to play in it.

Sorry, I’m tired this morning and the cleaning lady came early so I am biding my time outside the house, at a café, having a hard time thinking much or writing well. I have my Swiss magazine and my iPhone German-English translator helping me read the article titles. Let’s be honest – I’m understanding about 50% of them even with the help of 2-4 words looked up per title.

And since I’m being random and uninspired today, I’ll mention that I’m still on my clothes and house decoration buying Lent. Which I’m happily surviving, partially by taking existing clothing to the tailor in our village to take in, let out, fix and such. I even got the curtains down there for a proper hemming. Now the baby’s room blue shower curtain is no longer staple-hemmed. My Target denim shirt fits my shoulders and my waist (this doesn’t happen often to me). On Mother’s Day, I even wore a dress from 3 years ago purchase, that was too tight on my arms, because he’d loosened the arm holes. Oh, and let’s not forget shoes. I brought in a pair of Teva sandals I bought last summer to move the tie loops so they fit my foot. Amazing what you can find to wear, in your closet.

Sincere-Girl to the rescue

Everyone has some. They may not include flying, X-ray vision, or being able to figure out where the controls are in an invisible jet. They are usually more subtle, these superpowers. I have a few - being totally submissive to the point of self-deprecating (stop laughing, you people who know me personally...I only bring this power out under extreme circumstances), and I almost always find a parking space. The latter power I attribute to being an only child, and the belief that there will always be a space for me. Maybe it nudges me to go around the parking lot just one more time, but I have an impressive record. I don't mean I can find a space in a half-empty lot. I mean I can find a space near the front at the airport, or curbside in downtown Chicago at peak parking hours.

But back to that first power. There is a part of me that has always wanted to be really smart, and I think that once I went through astronomy coursework, that part settled down a bit. Not in class, or among other astronomers, but in civilian life. And the fact that I've passed a differential equations class, opens up this other part of me that can eat crow like its a slice White Chocolate Raspberry cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory.

"Oh, I know, I'm just so silly."

"I'm so sorry to inconvenience you."

"Yes, it really is dumb of me. Hee hee, what would I do without your help."

You need me to be stupid so that you can feel better? Well, if you have something I really want, I can be dumb as dirt. No problem. I can hide every last bit of sarcasm from my voice, my face, my being (maybe that is the REAL superpower) for the time period we have to interact.

I discovered this power while at a university where the front desk individuals at my dorm got practically drunk with power by making the students feel dumb. The more they could feel superior, the faster they helped you. And one night, I stood at that front desk in bare feet and pajamas, having locked myself out of my room. I was cold, tired and really just wanted to go to my warm fluffy bed. And, POOF, Sincere-Girl came out. I got the extra key, ran back to open my door, returned the key and was asleep in minutes.

So when a recent phone call from the consulate office here in town started with "This is the first time you've applied for citizenship for a child of yours? Yeah, I could tell by how badly you filled out the form," Sincere-Girl should really have been answered. She was probably untangling her cape after getting of that first bus we'd just been on, so instead Normal-Me took the phone and almost said something like "Wow, you're kind of bitchy for being the public face of the USA in a foreign country, huh?" Luckily, Sincere-Girl heard that first sentence, and quickly grabbed the phone from Normal-Me and just said "Mm-hm, yeah!" We jostled back and forth a bit for control of our side of the conversation, past screwy consulate non-logic and stupid requirements that are totally useless. In the end, the superhero took over, and we have an appointment for baby A's passport application.

Sincere-Girl is getting ready for the meeting, at which both M and Baby A also have to be present. Luckily, Baby A doesn't speak English yet, but I've informed M that he will spend the time holding, calming and engaging Baby A. Under no circumstances, except for building-wide fire, will Arguing-Logic-Academic-Man come out. I think we'll do okay. I just need to leave a bit of time that morning before we go to iron my cape and flex my eyebrows to make sure they can be adequately contrite.

P.S. Every superhero also has a weakness, and mine is lines. Don't ever, EVER, get in line behind me. I always pick the line which will, in the time AFTER I join it, go pear-shaped. We're talking the security at the airport finds a live cat eating a stolen Buddhist statue inside the carry-on of the person in front of me. Or the customer ahead of me decides to pay for $100 worth of groceries in pennies. After I've stepped into the line. Or, the car in front of mine at the Canadian border is a low-rider, with anti-government stickers on it, and a guy who suddenly decides to argue with the border agent (who, in that instance, had just come on shift and was the most ornery guys I've ever met, 20 minutes later when we finally got to him).