This afternoon I helped Katka take Ester (1 yr) and Timko (3 yr) to the doctor's office in Lipt. Hradok. Since Timko didn't need to visit the actual doctor, Katka and I agreed that I could take Timko to the park for a little play time. However, we did not give him enough warning and the sudden mother-separation was a bit too much for Timko. We're talking wailing the likes of which I'd forgotten about (since my own temper tantrums in the mid-80's). The first few minutes of tears and crying were okay, but then I realized:- I am standing in a park holding an unconsolable child that is screaming for his momma.
- I don't know Slovak past counting, naming colors, and maybe a handful of verbs I can't conjugate.
- I still don't have official legal rights to be in this country.
Feeling very much like a kid-napper, I spent the next few minutes coming up with a plan to quiet Timko. I promised candy. No. I said we could go get a coke. No. Get a magazine? Absolutely not. I was about out of tricks and Timko was howling. However, as soon as I mentioned ice cream, there was absolute silence. Immediately, a grin came over his sweet face and Timko began to plan which flavor to get.
Mary Poppins could have probably defused this situation better than I did, but at the whopping price of 25 Euro cents, my tactic for kidnapping/quieting was still pretty successful I think.
1 comment:
Sarah, this is an absolutely wonderful story. "Ice Cream" the international language -- maybe just after "McDonalds?"
We know you are coming home soon; that will be a happy welcome home and a sad farewell. I know. I remember leaving England.
Love you,
Larry
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