Summer girl

Yesterday afternoon we all went for a long walk around the lake, in the sunshine and melting snow that alternately covered the path. We took two strollers, so Evie and William could switch off resting their legs. (Johanna got to stay in her stroller the whole time.)

As we came home, I pointed out the snow tunnel they had built early this winter, on the side of driveway/parking area. The snow was melting quickly in the warm weather, and part of the top had already caved in.

Inside our garage, and still in the stroller, Evie got a sad look on her face, and pitifully said she wanted to have more snow. I tried to console her as I unbuckled her from the stroller. I asked her in German if she liked the snow ("Magst du den Schnee?"). She nodded, her lower lip starting to droop.

In German again, I asked if she likes winter, and if she's a winter child ("Magst du den Winter? Bist du ein Winterkind?"). She thought about it for just a split moment, and answered, in English, "No, I'm a summer girl!"

I was surprised to hear her quick understanding of the German phrase and the immediate, appropriate, and mirrored response in a different language. I laughed out loud and gave her a big hug, and we went inside.

Olympics at home

William and Evie had fun watching the Vancouver Olympics with us the past two weeks, and reenacting many of the events.

They have chased each other around the living room, pretending to be on ice skates, pushing each other from behind, just like the team short-track events. Once, he told Evie to stand a few feet in front of him before they started, just like the long-distance speed skaters do, because of the curves in the oval track.

And every time he lined up, William would stretch his fingers straight out and held tightly together, lift one arm behind him and bent at the elbows, crouch over slightly and bend his knees. Then he would utter in a low, long tone, "Rrready..." (just like the voice at the starting line always did on TV), and then "pschew!" -- at the sound of his home-made gunshot noise, he and Evie would take off, scampering around the living room at top speed. A couple times, William kept running/skating along the carpet as long as the speed skaters on TV were still circling the large oval. That really got his heart going, but I let him go, because it was going to tire him out for bedtime.

Earlier last week, William set up a track of pillows across the floor, recreating the moguls ski event. He and Evie would start near the couches, then go sliding/running along the carpet, and hop over each of the "jumps" in front of them, past the kitchen, toward their bedroom door.

After watching the end of the Canada/USA hockey game, William pulled out his red plastic fireman's helmet, the big red plastic baseball bat (holding it down on the floor), his little baseball glove, and a round red wood block as the puck. He cleared the chair away from the kitchen table, and stood in front of the two metal legs, as he played "Canada hockey" -- he looked just like the goalie. I got out my old walking cane and turned it upside down to send the "puck" toward him across the carpet, using the crook of the cane as my hockey stick. Evie also shot a couple goals with my help.

Even William's favorite online video games gave way to some new Olympic favorites: bobsled, snowboarding, and "ski and shoot."

Last night, as the party came to a close, I told them the next Winter Olympics were in four years, and they would be 9 and 7 years old. As I said that out loud, I realized how quickly those four years will go, and how different they will be. I quickly rehearsed in my mind all the fun we've had with them this time, and hoped we could recreate some of it next time.

As I put them to bed, William said he was sad that the Olympics were over. "I love the Winter Olympics," he said. "Me too," I told him. I kissed their heads as I sent them off to sleep, to dream of all the events they had participated in.